


Speed Dating

by radiations



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiations/pseuds/radiations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enter Bruce Wayne, billionaire. Handsome and polite and, for some inexplicable reason, interested in Wally West. Who isn't much apart from superhero meta-human speedster. But Bruce Wayne, so far as he knows, doesn't know that, and Wally doesn't know how to stay away. Wally doesn't even know if he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I came here for food.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by: "Wally has been dating Bruce Wayne for a while but doesn't realize he's batman(bats of course knows that wally's the flash) and then one day he finds out." by countrycity on tumblr. url: batflashed

Wally West, also known as the Flash, sometimes, was at a banquet hall. Feeling out of place in his rather snug tie, and tugging on it absently, the redhead made his way to the dining table. Grabbing a plate, he looked at all the little delicate looking sandwiches and was strongly tempted to eat everything.

Everything.

He remained standing there, looking at everything longingly, when a voice, deep and from behind him, stated, “You’re allowed to eat.”

Wally spun around, eyes wide and then relaxed. And then tensed up again, in realization. Oh  _shit_.

Bruce Wayne, in all his glory, stood in front of him in a black suit. Wally, ignoring the fact that he felt slightly...well, very, intimidated, took a step back and half laughed, shrugging.  

“Um, have at it. I, uh, I’m not hungry.” Which was so far from the truth it was ridiculous, but Wally didn’t want to be seen scarfing down 5 sandwiches in one go. Not in a place like this. And least of all by the billionaire heir of Wayne Enterprises. Or, whatever. 

Bruce Wayne’s dark eyes bore into his own quite intensely. So Wally, naturally, took another step back and halfheartedly gestured at the table. 

“Uh,” he offered again before shaking his head a little and starting to turn around when his stomach gave a loud growl.

Freezing and feeling warmth spread from the back of his neck to his ears, Wally made a face. Great. Make an idiot of yourself in front of the billionaire. Lie to the host. Why was he here again? For the life of him, Wally couldn’t recall. He’d received an invitation and wanted fancy food for free. That had to do with part of it.

...and here he was, refusing said fancy food for...absolutely no reason.

Bruce Wayne was speaking to him and Wally tried to snap out of his daze to focus on the words leaving the other male’s mouth.

“...there’s plenty in the back. You can have as much as you’d like. A lot of it goes to waste.” 

Well, that’s all the encouragement Wally needed. Grabbing a plate and trying not to move too quickly, he flashed a half grin at the older man before starting to stock up.

“You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that,” he said before stuffing a sandwich in his mouth and trying to chew. “Imf nfot fwewy goof mph hoflinh bachk,” he added eloquently before swallowing and stuffing a tart looking thing in his mouth.

“That’s good,” the other man said, grabbing a glass of champagne from the table and nursing it before drinking some. “I haven’t seen you at once of these events before.” 

Wally grins in response while continuing to chew and shrugging again. Swallowing, he tore his gaze away from the food as well as the billionaire and glanced around the hall. 

“It’s not really my kind of place,” he replied, shrugging again. “Good food, though.” 

The other man chuckles softly and Wally feels something in his stomach flipflop. Must be digestion, or something. 

“I could say the same,” Bruce said, soft and low and Wally blinked. 

“But this is everything you know, isn’t it?” He asked, and stuffs another tiny sandwich in his mouth. 

He looked back at Bruce, who seemed to simply be staring at him, and Wally felt his face heat up, pausing in mid-chew. He opened his mouth to ask why the other was staring at him and inhaled only to choke and start coughing. 

“Slow down,” the older male said, a touch of both concern and amusement in his tone. “Do you need water?”

Coughing and trying to clear his throat, Wally shook his head and focused on breathing. Clearing his throat again, eyes watery from the struggle, he looked back at Bruce a little sheepishly. 

“I’m not very good at slow,” he said, finding hilarity in the irony of his statement. He grinned brightly, and Bruce looked even more amused, parting his lips to say something when a beautiful woman in a sparkling red dress stepped between them.

“Bruce, darling, please have a drink with me. We must discuss the upcoming policies,” she practically sang, and Bruce was smiling at her and Wally felt out of place all over again.

Bruce looked up at Wally over her shoulder, that polite smile barely reaching his eyes and Wally knew it was his cue to leave. So he did, quick enough with his tower of food on his plate before Bruce had a chance to say anything else. 

There were butterflies in his stomach, except the wings were much too sharp and it felt as though he was being cut up. 


	2. Really, just the food.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wally feels like he's maybe being courted, but that's ridiculous, and he's being ridiculous, and also, he's hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going with this, really.

Wally West had a problem. Well, not really. Except, he was holding a card thanking him for attending that event signed by the one and only Bruce Wayne. Absently tracing the signature with his thumb, Wally shrugged and set the card on his table.

Fidgeting with his apartment keys, Wally wandered over to the fridge and opened it up. He blinked at the empty shelves and sighed. Sometimes he wished being a superhero paid. He supposed it could if he asked, but, he’s pretty sure that’s not 'superhero-ey'.

Also, then, someone would find out that he was Wally West and he’s pretty sure that’s a bad thing, or something. At least, Batman stressed on the whole, secret identity, thing, a lot.

Wally yawned and sighed, rubbing his stomach before dropping his keys on the counter and fishing out his phone from his pocket. He could always just zip up to the station. There was an endless source of food there.

Resolving to do that, Wally shot out his suit and glanced at the thank you card once more. He got a weird feeling from it. Something like...Bruce Wayne shouldn’t have the time to sit down and write thank you cards to all his guests.

But it was ridiculous to think that he was the only one to receive one.

Whatever. Dismissing the far-fetched idea, he shot up towards the station.

Food first, Wayne conspiracies later.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you have food at home?” Shayera asks, tone more amused than curious. Wally responds unintelligibly, spitting out a couple morsels accidentally onto the floor and struggling to swallow. Shayera wrinkles her nose in distaste and Wally gives her a sheepish grin.

“Why should I stock up at home when there’s so much here,” Wally repeats, when his mouth is clear and Shayera rolls her eyes, a fond smile on her face before walking away. Wally returns his attention to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients for a sandwich and cradling multiple items in his arms while shutting the door with his foot and zipping everything over to the counter.

Slapping some butter on his bread, on multiple slices of bread, Wally almost doesn’t notice Batman walking in.

“Want a sandwich, Bats?” Wally asks, concentrating on piling tomato slices perfectly on top of one another before folding slices of bologna over them.

“No,” the other man responded, almost curtly. “Don’t you eat at home?” followed a question, with less amusement.

Wally felt his ears burn, and slapped on mayonnaise to his masterpiece before shooting the older man a reproached look.

“Yeah, I do. You know how my metabolism is,” he says in a defiant tone before taking a bite out of his sandwich. For some reason it’s not the same when Batman talks to him about the same thing Shayera does. It’s as though he’s more...condescending, or whatever.

And Wally’s not a little kid anymore. He’s a grown adult. But somehow, whenever he was around Batman, he felt like Kid Flash again. Like he didn’t know better, and like he needed to prove himself.

Not that he was ever going to voice those thoughts aloud.

He’s quick to down the rest of his sandwich, chewing quickly and swallowing and keenly aware of the other man continuing to watch him.

Getting increasingly uncomfortable, and refusing to meet the other man’s gaze, Flash let out a loud burp before zipping away as quick as he could.

When he gets home, there’s a voice mail on his phone from a number he doesn’t recognize and he’s expecting it to be a telemarketer when he presses the button to listen.

Instead, it’s a voice that’s so familiar it’s a wonder that it takes him a moment to put a name to it.

“Hey, it’s Bruce. Bruce Wayne, I mean. I met you at the dinner last night. Thanks for coming. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but it’d be nice if you ever wanted to come around.” A brief pause and then a soft chuckle and Wally feels his stomach twist. “I have got plenty of leftovers, if that’s any incentive.”

Wally can’t believe his ears - he’d barely said two words to the man. But somehow had left enough of an impression that he’d gotten a phone call from the billionaire. And a voicemail.

Wally listens to it again before deleting the message.

That was a road he was not going to go down. He remembers Batman, and the way the other man would stress about attachments. And he’s fairly certain that Bruce Wayne doesn’t consider him much beyond just some interesting kid with a huge appetite.

But Wally knew himself, and he knew the flip flop in his stomach said otherwise about his own feelings.


	3. How Did I Get Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of this story, Flash has no idea who Batman is, despite having a history with Batman and Dick when he was younger. I tried to fit it in as well as I could with the initial prompt. Also, I use Flash and Wally interchangeably and I hope that's not too disconcerting while you read. Also, I haven't written anything in a while, so I'm sorry in advance!

The phone rang, startling Wally awake and he nearly falls out of bed. A glance at his clock tells him it’s well into the afternoon and he groans. He’d clearly missed his alarm. Not that it mattered, considering his unemployment.

Other than, well, saving the world.

The phone was still ringing.

Groaning, he reached over to grab his phone and knocked it off the side table instead. It hits the floor with a clatter because he’s still too lazy to let his reflexes kick in and then continues to vibrate along the hardwood floor.

It takes him a moment to realize that it might actually be an emergency that maybe Central City was under attack-

No, this was his private phone that was vibrating across the floor.

It stopped ringing and Wally stared at the ceiling, blinking. Sometimes, he really liked the feeling of just having woken up. The grogginess in his veins settles in a way he never feels it otherwise, grounding him almost. He feels heavy, while it’s with sleep, and it’s a feeling he could never really keep.

Stable.

The phone starts ringing again and Wally closes his eyes, listening to the classic Nokia sound ring and echo throughout his bedroom. If he wanted, he could grab it in less than a second.

It feels strangely normal to not pick up the phone.

He yawns, and turns his head to stare at the clock. He should head up to the station. There’s probably something for him to do up there.

The phone stops ringing again and Wally shifts, sitting up and kick his legs over the edge. His brain still feels foggy and he relishes the feeling, almost.

His phone starts ringing again, and this time he’s quick to reach it, picking up before the first ring even finishes.

“Hey,” His voice is hoarse, almost thick with sleep and he clears his throat.

There’s silence on the other end and Wally pulls the phone away from his ear, to stare at the ID. It’s unknown. He puts the phone back to his ear, confused. “It’s Wally West.”

“There’s a delivery for you in the lobby. Please come and sign.” Click.

Wally frowns, staring at the phone before blinking. With a shrug, he threw on a shirt and sped down the stairs.

He came to a stop in front of a giant basket of food, wrapped in plastic. Phone still clutched in his hand, he used his other hand to sign the order form, handed to him by an irritated looking delivery guy.

The basket had fruits, and cheese, and meat slices…and bread. With little packets of sauce, looked like. Completely confused, Wally carried the basket back up to his apartment.

He set it down on the counter before looking back at his phone and seeing that he’d received two phone calls before the unknown id of the delivery dude. A recognizable number that he’d yet to save onto his phone. And, his voicemail notification was flashing.

Uncertain, heart speeding up a little, he clicked the voicemail and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, it’s Bruce. Wayne.” A pause. “I was serious about those leftovers.” Another pause, and some shuffling. “Give me a call, if you get a chance.” Click.

Wally tried not to categorize the billionaire as creepy. Maybe being filthy rich made you socially awkward.

There was a second voicemail.

“I, uh, had some of the leftovers delivered to your place. You don’t have to call back. Don’t worry about it. I just... It was good meeting you. Let me know if you ever do need anything. I…” A pause, and the sound of a throat clearing. Wally ignored the fact that the butterflies were ripping up his insides. “Sorry.” Click.

Holy shit. First, this guy had issues. Second, Was he being courted? He was totally being courted. Was he being courted? Was this just some rich guy thinking that he looked way too skinny and playing some kind of, what was it, Dickens? Oliver Twist kind of thing? Was it? He didn’t look that skinny, did he?

He had to call back. He absolutely had to call back now.

He stared at the basket.

Maybe after he ate.

* * *

The station called him and Wally used it as an excuse not to return the phone call.

He was hanging out in the Hall (of Justice) after the meeting, not having paid enough attention primarily because he was trying to formulate the beginnings of a conversation when Shayera leans over and nudges him.

“It’s over,” she informed him and Wally can’t help but think about how much he really, truly, loves her.

“Was it important?” He asked, getting to his feet and she shot him a look of amusement.

“Yes,” came the response from next to him and Wally tensed briefly before turning to face Batman, standing there in his gloomy glory.

“Haha,” Flash rubbed the back of his neck, noticing Shayera slipping out from his peripheral and taking back what he’d thought earlier about loving her. “You know I usually don’t pay attention.”

Everyone else was clearing out and for some reason Flash felt rooted to the spot, pinned by the gaze of the Dark Knight. He should write poetry with the way his thoughts wanted to frame the other man.

“Actually, you do. You normally pretend you don’t,” Batman said, tone a smidgen softer, unless Wally was imagining it, and he felt his ears redden.

“Well, it’s been a long day,” he heard himself say, almost defensively.

There’s a moment where Flash can’t quite tell if Batman is staring at him or behind him.

“I’m sure it has been,” Batman finally said, before stepping past him and out of the hall.

Wally relaxed, trying not to be too aware of the fact that he’d almost, for a second there, forgotten to breathe. He really needed to sort his shit out.

* * *

He was sprawled across his bed and it was well past 9pm and anyone in their right frame of mind would just wait until tomorrow because billionaire businessmen probably have early curfews.

Wally pressed dial anyways, still not having saved the number as a contact, and brought the phone to his ear, kind of praying that the other wouldn’t pick up.

He’s thinking about hanging up at the end of the second ring, when-

“Bruce Wayne,” came the deep voice of the man that had been muddling his thoughts all day.

Wally forgot how to speak, opening and then shutting his mouth.

“Hello?” The other male sounds annoyed now, and for some reason it felt familiar.

“Uh, hey, it’s, uh, me. Wally. West. Redhead. Um, food. Thanks for the food.” He managed to stammer out, both quickly and choppily.

There’s silence on the other end and Wally is certain this is the point where he’s due to hang up and never interact with anyone ever again-

“You’re welcome,” the other responded, almost curtly and Wally wants very desperately to hang up.

“I, uh, didn’t know how to, uh.” Make a phone call, apparently.

There’s silence on the other end, as though the man was waiting for Wally to finish.

“Thank you,” he finished, weakly.

There’s a beat and Wally is either about to hang up or fling his phone out the window, when he heard a soft chuckle.

“I thought I’d…scared you off,” came the utterly honest response from the other male and Wally ignored the rush in his veins.

He doesn’t respond, mostly because the butterflies have made their way up to his throat.

“Did I?” And there’s that note of question, of vulnerability, in the other male’s tone and Wally kind of wants to rip out his hair.

“No, you, uh, you didn’t. I…” just didn’t know what you wanted. Instead, Wally trailed off, uncertainly.

“Would you like to meet up for coffee?”

Woah. Wally froze at the question, almost dropping his phone.

“Uh, why?” He asked bluntly, instead of saying yes the way any person in their right mind probably would.

There’s a moment where Wally is certain he’s ruined it all and Bruce, can he call him Bruce? Can he think of him as Bruce in the internal monologue going on in his head? Or would Wayne be better? Bruce Wayne? Billionaire? Whatever, the rich guy chuckled.

Wally was really starting to like the sound too.

“I’d like to get to know you.”

And the brutal honesty in his voice made Wally forget how the tips of his fingers felt.

“Okay,” he heard himself say, eyes making their way over to the now empty basket.

“I’ll give you a call when my schedule clears up. Take care.” Click.

Wally continued to hold the phone against his ear, blinking and then, this time, dropping his phone. He settled for burying his face under a pillow because, what the hell was _that_?

 


	4. Just in Time for, uh, Something, Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want hurt/comfort in this if I'm going to be invested in it. disclaimer: i'm not a stickler for...accuracy. just letting things happen for the sake of plot and the dynamics of their relationship. again, sorry for the tenses!

“Flash, pay attention,” barked Batman through the communicator and Flash scrunched up his nose.

“Flash, pay attention,” the redhead mimicked under his breath, a couple pitches higher as he sped across the sidewalk, zipping past pedestrians.

“We need you in and out with the disk,” J’onn said, and Flash nodded, not that anyone could see him. “You have a minute and forty five seconds.”

“And I only need forty seconds,” he said, grinning.

“Careful,” Batman warned, and Flash tried not to take it as patronizing.

“I always am, Bats,” he simply said in response.

* * *

Batman was _furious_.

“What were you thinking!?” Flash winced, as J’onn took the disk from him and Batman towered over him, radiating anger. It had only been the three of them for this mission, and Flash was kind of grateful that Clark hadn’t been there. Supes would be giving him this concerned look over, which for some reason was worse than Batman’s self-righteous indignation.

So he didn’t wait long enough for the lasers to shut down. He only got sort of singed, and hell, they were healing even as Batman was shouting at him.

“He is fine, Batman.” J’onn provided, inserting the disk and clicking away at the monitor. Batman stayed where he was, hands clenched into fists and Flash is glad he’s faster than the older man would ever be.

“He was lucky!” Batman shot at the Martian, not for a second taking his gaze off Wally.

“No, I timed it,” Wally said, hoping he sounded as truthful as he needed to be. Really, it had just been carelessness and impulse. Mostly, he was fueled by impatience.

“You didn’t,” Batman said, this time quietly but just as angrily. There’s a pause and Wally wondered if Batman’s upset because he’s hurt or because he hadn’t listened to the other man’s orders through the communicator.

Wally forced a laugh, uneasy with the serious tension in the air.

“You got me. You’re right, I didn’t. But I’m fine, see?” His arms have healed under the cuts in his suit and when he raises them, Batman doesn’t even look.

“Go home. Get out of here, you’re done.” Batman turned around, cape whipping dramatically and stalking over to where J’onn was working.

Flash wanted to argue, but there was something about Batman’s tone, that note of finality, that he didn’t want to pursue.

So, he went back home.

* * *

“No wonder you’ve got no friends, you…grumpy…old…” Wally trailed off, grumbling to his empty apartment as he opened up the fridge and stared at his strangely stocked fridge.

The billionaire, though he hadn’t called back since, had been sending him food periodically over the past few days. Increasing in portion.

Grabbing the container of lasagna that was meant for four servings, probably, Wally grabbed a fork and plopped down onto the couch. He’d applied for a job as a mechanic at several different places, one of them being a police station. They’d seemed particularly enthusiastic, which would be good. If he was close enough to the action, he’d be more likely to hear of what was happening before it was happening.

Shoving a couple mouthfuls of cheesy goodness into his mouth, Wally tried not to think about how angry Batman had been with him earlier that day. Just because he hadn’t followed orders. Like he’d compromised the entire mission.

Well, he sort of had, but it’s not like…

Whatever was on that disk must’ve been pretty important. Wally reminded himself to listen more carefully during strategy sessions and meetings. Maybe if he knew context he’d be more careful.

Usually, at least, he was careful. For some reason, he’d really wanted to…prove something, today. Batman, barking orders at him like he had no idea what he was doing, like he was just a child, was really driving him up some kind of wall.

Hugging the giant container to his chest, Wally glanced over at his phone as though willing it to ring. Stupid billionaires and their strange courting practices.

Stupid grumpy old dictator men.

He fell asleep, nursing the empty container to his chest and slumped on his couch.

* * *

He’s woken up the next day well into the evening, and he’s so groggy and heavy that it takes him a moment to figure out why he was awake to begin with.

His phone. Right. His phone was ringing.

He launched out of the couch towards the sound of his phone, vibrating and screaming on his table, and then cringed as the container clattered onto the floor loudly. He could have caught that. He grabbed his phone, answering with a thick, croaked, “Hey.”

There’s silence and Wally glanced at his phone before his stomach twisted, recognizing the number he’d still yet to register onto his phone. Drawing the phone back to his ear, he heard,

“Did I wake you?”

“Uh, no,” Wally cleared his throat, glancing around his apartment and then staring out the window. The sun was setting. He’d…really slept in. “I was…”

There’s a pause and Wally shifted, trying to shake the sleep out of his bones. He was really tired. Maybe he’d have to have a talk with someone up at the station. Ask J’onn about the weird heaviness in his…body.

“Sleeping?” Bruce, can he say Bruce?, offered, and Wally felt his ears redden. Great, he was blushing over a phone conversation.

“You could, uh, say that.”

A small chuckle, laced with exasperation and Wally felt like he was back in high school or something.

“Well, I was wondering if you had any plans for the evening. An appointment cancelled, but it’s fairly late notice so I’d understand if this was too last minute.”

The sincerity in the other man’s voice was ridiculous. Weren’t rich people supposed to be assholes?

“Uh,” Wally said, as eloquently as ever.

“It’s okay if you’re unable,” Bruce Wayne, billionaire, said, his tone easy.

“No, I, uh, I’m not doing anything. We can, yeah. Sure. Where? Uh, I can get ready pretty quick.” And, great, now he sounded way too eager. Moderation, West. Moderation.

“I’ll pick you up, don’t worry. I know a place uptown.”

Who even says uptown? Also, pick him up?  

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that! I can get there fine on my own,” also, probably faster. “Just give me the address,” and now Wally’s thumbing through his wallet because, uptown also sounds expensive.

“I insist,” said the other male, gentle and sincere and Wally wanted to groan because he really could get there faster than some guy driving him around.

“Uh, okay. What kind of place is it? What should I wear?” and now Wally was in front of his closet, pulling out every formal attire he had. Which, was about three.

“Anything. I’ll be there for 8, how does that sound?”

Like a long time of Wally freaking out over nothing.

“That’s great! I’ll, uh, see you.” A small laugh and it’s so familiar Wally almost felt love sick. The other man hung up and Wally groaned, falling face first into his mattress.


	5. I’m 98% sure I can run away from this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally goes on a date with Bruce Wayne and uh, he doesn't really know what he's doing, but it's probably really awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ridiculous delay! I'm dedicated to this fic, unlike most other things in my life. Find me on tumblr, username: batflashed.

For a speedster, it took Wally a ridiculously long time to get dressed. Also, running a comb through his hair a thousand times didn’t make it lay flat.

He looked…kind of awful. And since he couldn’t wear the exact same outfit he’d worn the first time he’d met Bruce, his options were pretty limited. He’s pretty sure he didn’t look _awful_ , awful.

His phone rang and Wally ran both hands over his face. Why did he agree to this? In what universe did this seem like a good idea?

His phone continued to ring and Wally grabbed it, picking up before the end of the third ring.

“Hey,” he said, sounding breathless and he hated it.

“I’m here,” came the voice from the other end, as gentle and coaxing as ever. Or, probably not, and Wally was totally internalizing and projecting his feelings into a voice that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it did.

Wally needed to sort his shit out. He needed to take a week to himself and sort out his shit. All of his shit.

“Alright, I’m heading down!” Wally said, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he grabbed his wallet and jacket.

“No need to rush,” the other said, sounding as though he was smiling, before he heard a click.

No need to rush. No need to rush.

God, but that’s all he knew to do.

* * *

Wally West was sitting in the rear seat of a black limousine with Bruce Wayne, closed off from the driver, and Wally tried, once again, to take in just how rich this guy was. Like, _dude_. He felt like a trophy wife. Okay, maybe not a trophy wife. A charity case? Probably more accurate.

“You look nice,” Bruce commented, and Wally tensed a little before relaxing and looking at the older man. The sun was setting and the leftover orange hue slipped through the window, highlighting blue eyes that gazed at him. Ew, even his thoughts were trying to get all poetic on him.

Time to run for the hills right then and there, Wally thought, as his stomach flipped.

“Thanks,” he managed, after a moment far too long that probably wasn’t long enough. He wanted to say that he’d spent exactly 48 minutes combing his hair, and he’d counted because he knew it was way too long but his hair just wouldn’t stay flat and for some reason, that had really mattered. He wanted to add that he usually didn’t care how his hair looked, or how anything looked, and it was disconcerting that, in this situation, he really did. Maybe offer that for the billionaire to chew on.

He settled for saying nothing, biting lightly on his lower lip to keep his stream of consciousness from slipping out. Cars were so _slow_.

He turned his gaze to his hands for a moment before glancing up and noticing the other man continue to gaze at him, curiously. Or creepily. He couldn’t tell.

What the hell did this guy want from him? …more than that, what the hell did Wally want from him?  

The other male looked out the window, and Wally wondered if he’d has gone as red as he felt he had.

He needed to take a turn in his thoughts. He opened his mouth and then shut it, trying to make sure that he knew exactly what he was going to say before he said it. Bruce was looking at him again and Wally realized his eyebrows were furrowed.

“You’re nervous. You don’t need to be.” Bruce said, interrupting Wally’s indecision and Wally wanted to protest, but then thought better of it. He was so nervous his voice would probably shake in denial.

“It’s not every night a billionaire takes me to a restaurant with his driver in his fancy limo,” he responded after a moment, a little defensively.

There's a pause in which it looks like Bruce is almost surprised. Or offended. Wally’s not sure which.

“Would you rather I drove next time?” He asked, a touch of amusement in his tone.

“Uh.” Wally responded and Bruce kept his gaze on him. Next time? There was going to be a next time?

…But, Wally was so much faster than any car.

Bruce half smiled at him before chuckling and shaking his head.

“I like car rides,” Bruce said, still smiling that half smile, as though reading his thoughts, which was wild, and disconcerting, and- “I also thought it would be a nice chance to get to know each other,” he offered with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead of at Wally who suddenly felt as though his heart was in his throat.

“What do you-“  He cut himself off, not finishing with the ‘ _want’_ that he so desperately wanted to ask. Instead, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Do? In your spare time?”

Bruce turned, looking at him curiously before smiling wider.

“I don’t have very much spare time.”

“Oh.”

They fell into silence, but it was a weirdly comfortable one, with Bruce gazing at him with that gentle smile.

“And you?”

Wally blinked in response. What the hell did he do in his spare time? TV, eat…be The Flash?

“Well, I’ve been looking for a job,” he answered after moment, surprised at his own honesty.

Bruce looked at him, eyebrows raising slightly.

“Where do you work now?”

Wally shrugged, offering half a grin. “Odd jobs around the city, here and there. Might get a job as a mechanic by the police station, though!”

Bruce nodded slowly, as though deep in thought.

“And your source of income?”

Something fell into place, clicking in his brain. That’s what this was.

Bruce Wayne was offering to be his sugar daddy.

Wally blinked, and then shook his head quickly, trying to dismiss that train of thought. Okay, so, that definitely wasn’t it, probably. Backtrack.

“Um, I don’t really have one. But I have a lot of savings,” Wally said, not really lying but not really telling the truth either.

Bruce stared at him and then the limo came to a stop in front of a very…fancy restaurant. There was a fountain bigger than…well, his living room, right at the entrance. He stared at through the window, only slightly aware of Bruce getting out of the limo.

Uh. He definitely could not afford this place. Like, at all.

He shifted over, getting out as well and contemplated making a run for it. Common sense told him that Bruce probably intended on paying for the night. Irrationality screamed that it wasn’t a date. Common sense didn’t really have a response to that.

He half expected Bruce to hold out his elbow for him to take or something, but Bruce walked on ahead, hands in his pockets, and Wally caught up, falling in step with him and rubbing the back of his neck.

“This place looks…” He trailed off and Bruce looked at him, expectantly. “…Nice.”

Bruce chuckled, offering a shrug.

“They know me well. We have a reservation,” he added, and surely enough, as they entered the restaurant with sparkling marble floors and chandeliers and expensive art on the walls, the server was quick and graceful, moving to the pair of them with a bright smile.

“Right this way, Mr. Wayne.  Your booth is prepared as requested,” The server said, and Wally had to wonder if the accent was fake. Weren’t all the accents at fancy restaurants fake?

The server gave Wally a curious look and as they followed, Bruce leading, Wally couldn’t help but wonder if he fit the usual company the older man brought to this restaurant.

As they came to a booth a little away from the rest of the clients, Wally warily eyed the violinists playing not too far from the booth. Were they apart of the request?

Wally slid into leather cushioned seats and leaned back, trying to relax as he watched Bruce maneuver into the seat across from him. How did Bruce Wayne make shimmying into a booth seat look like an art form?

Bruce said something about old wine as Wally opened the menu. Oh man, it was one of those restaurants that didn’t even have the prices next to the items on the menu. Like, way out of his league.

He glanced up, catching Bruce glancing at him over his own menu, and Wally entertained the idea of the sugar daddy offer. He’d probably take him up on it, if he offered, on second thought.

* * *

Some calamari, stuffed potato skins, and two glasses of wine later, Wally was slicing into a steak. He was listening to Bruce talk about the new batch of employees, and how one of them had this really dry sense of humour where everything they said was a joke, but in a really serious tone, and Wally was surprised he was still paying attention.

“How about your family?” Bruce asked, after a moment of silence, and Wally remembered that Bruce had gone into the people at his company because he’d asked about who Bruce usually spent time with.

“I live alone,” Wally offered, and shrugged. “Not really close with my folks. Uh, got some friends that keep me in check,” he added, thinking fondly of Shayera.

“Keep you in check?” Bruce questioned, tone light, before neatly slicing off a piece of salmon and biting off the fork. Wally tried not to get distracted by how…artistically the older man ate.

“Sometimes I forget to do stuff. Like grocery shop. So they stay stocked on food.” Wally grinned, thinking back to the Justice League. “I have a huge appetite, so it works out.” He paused, remembering all the food the other man had been sending him, and then smiled a little to himself, staring at the steak.

When he looked up, he noticed that Bruce had the strangest expression on. Bruce stared at him for a moment and Wally ran over what he just said, wondering if he’d said something wrong.

His phone buzzed then, and he shifted to pull out his phone from his pocket. He blinked, and then pouted. It was the League. J’onn needed him.

He looked up and was amused to see that the other man too was looking at his phone. It was always funny, he thought, absently realizing social cues. People only checked on their phone if others around them did, out of some sort of courtesy thing.

But Bruce Wayne was a businessman. He was probably always on his phone. Wally felt warmed, realizing that Bruce had been paying him his full attention.

And then he looked back down at the screen on his phone, stomach sinking.

“Uh, I…” He started, and Bruce looked up at him, expression as unreadable as ever. “I have to go. It’s…important.” Bruce blinked, and then frowned.

“Is everything okay?”

Wally glanced back down at his phone. He could probably excuse himself to the bathroom, run up and check it out, and come back. Make it back in time for dessert.

Maybe not on the first date.

“I’m sorry, it’s just one of my friends.” Wally moved, glancing at his half finished steak and wishing he hadn’t worked so hard on eating slow, before pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

Bruce moved to get up and Wally quickly shook his head, gesturing for the other to sit back down. “No, uh, you should finish eating. Um, how much….”

Bruce smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll get this one.” The other man hesitated, glancing at his own phone and Wally wondered if he had someone he could call to come down and join him to finish dinner.

Probably.

This was probably really rude, too. He bit his lower lip, wondering how he could apologize. Then Bruce got to his feet and nodded to the server before looking back at Wally.

“Do you need a ride?”

Wally quickly shook his head, grimacing slightly. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a car. A slow, _slow_ , car.

“No, it’s fine.” He hurriedly responded, feeling his phone vibrate again. Uh, courtesy, what was courtesy when the most attractive man was standing in front of you, staring into your eyes as you tried to skip out on half a date to save a city? “Thanks for dinner.” He managed, and swallowed, trying to steadily meet the other’s gaze.

“My pleasure.” Bruce Wayne was so…steady. So…what was the word? Collected? Was that the word? Wally felt like a bundle of jittery nerves, wracked now, with guilt. He also really needed to leave, now.

“I’m really sorry about this.”

Bruce was quick to shake his head, smiling slightly.

“You owe me half a dinner, next time,” the other man teased, and Wally felt himself relax, cheeks burning slightly.

“Deal.”  

He walked as quickly as normal people did to the door, glanced over his shoulder at Bruce, who wasn’t staring after him the way he’d hoped for but rather, looking back down at his phone. Wally sighed a little before zipping off, making up for lost time as he headed to the tower.

* * *

Bruce Wayne sighed, glancing at the text from J'onn and closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. What exactly was he doing? This was silly, ridiculous, and pointless. Yet, something about those green eyes, and the way they met his own, with this openness, with this interest and fascination...

His heart warmed in this way he'd yet to fully decipher.

Yet...

He was playing a very dangerous game. His grip on the phone tightened, and he couldn't help but feel as though he'd just made a very, very, bad decision.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, it didn't come out the way I wanted it to. I wrote so many parts of it scattered throughout the course of a couple months, so I hope it flowed well. Please let me know if you have any ideas! But, hurrah! Bruce Wayne's POV! It has arrived!


	6. Battycopter. Batticopter? Hellbat. Hellwings? Hellibat. Wait, wasn’t that a fish?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally's literally burning up. Haha. Except, not really. Also, sometimes, they fight things literally out of nightmares, and honestly, sometimes Wally wished he could run away instead of running at it. Then again, though, he'd probably run away and then run right back. Hero complex, or whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an action scene! H/C and all that good stuff! Because I just started Justice League again! Also, some more snippets of Bruce's POV.

“Flash, you’re the distraction!” John shouted as he zipped past him in a stream of green light. Wally grinned, zigzagging across the giant pits filled with whatever alien substance.

“I’m always the distraction,” he shouted back, zipping up to catch up to the other man before passing him, headed straight for the massive organic structure.

He glanced up, watching as the Batplane went overhead, accompanied by Superman flying alongside. Sometimes Wally wished he could fly. Also, was that called the Batplane? Batjet? Batwing? Batticopter…well, no, it wasn’t a helicopter…but, if Batman ever decided to name his helicopters, Wally had a name now. Batticopter. He really liked the sound of that.

He sped around the structure looming over all of them, before going up the side. There was probably an entrance or something. Granted, he wasn’t here to infiltrate. Just distract.

Never any of the fun stuff. Though…

And, speeding up his movements, he sliced through part of the strange structure, watching as it closed back up, almost healing immediately.

Alright, so, it was either _alive_ , or just…self repairing. In this day and age, probably both. Wally eyed it wearily before zipping back down. All the lifeforms they’d been chasing had practically melted into the structure, disappearing inside it.

But they were bound to come back out.

“There!” It was Hawkgirl’s voice, cutting through the air and the communicator and Wally snapped his head up to see the structuring starting to melt, exposing what…looked...like a giant…

He’s supposed to distract _that_?

Throat going dry, eyebrows flying up, Wally backs the hell up, watching as the rest of the team do the same, a strange silence punctuating the communicators.

“They became one,” Wonder Woman said, and Wally wanted to remark that _that_ was the understatement of the year.

“Well, I mean, at least we only have to focus on one enemy, right guys? Haha.” Wally heard himself say, trying not to think about how one body shaped like a hundred disfigured bodies of aliens was definitely going to haunt his nightmares for the rest of the month.

“Hold on, I am checking its vitals,” J’onn said, and Wally watched as over a hundred pair of eyes blinked in succession of one another. That’s…just…wrong.

Then it took a step and Wally checked himself back in, learning forward.

“I’ll get it dizzy,” Wally said, because it still looked kind of weird and weak and like it didn’t know what to do and strike now, better than later, right?

“Wait, Flash,” Batman cut in, sharply, and Wally shrugged it off, zipping forward anyways.

“I’ll distract while you guys figure it out. Maybe it’ll fall over.” It took another step and then Wally was circling it, spinning around and watching as it staggered, holding its position.

“Careful,” Hawkgirl warned, her voice earnest and Wally thought about how much he really, really, loved Shayera.

And then, something hit his back and Wally lurched, moving faster and glancing up at the giant…thing.

…It was _bleeding_ on him.

* * *

Flash was notorious for not having a plan. For barging in to save the day and nearly ruining it instead. Or, at the very least, ruining himself. And it was disconcerting, seeing him again, but in this context. They'd literally just been eating dinner together. And it had been good, and not dangerous, and...

But Batman couldn’t focus on that, he couldn’t think about the other male was jeopardizing his safety. No, he had to keep trying to sort out mechanics.

Whatever it was, it was getting more stable as the second passed. It was helping that Flash was spinning around it, causing it pause in…whatever it was doing to optimize.

“How do we shut it down?” Superman asked through the communicator and Bruce ignored Clark, trying to focus.

It was heat. It was radiating a lot of heat. What better to deal with heat than to cool it down? Bruce started formulating a plan, almost wanting to smile. “Superman, we need ice,” he said, just as he started typing away on the computer, glancing back out the window of the jet, to Wal- Flash, an orange blur at the base of the creature.

“Got it,” Superman said and Bruce nodded to himself, pressing a button. He had plenty of liquid nitrogen in stock on his plane because, well, he always had a plan, so that would make do.

Bruce glanced back up as there was some crackling in his communicator. Whatever, it didn’t matter, he almost had this solved.

Then, it started to melt. Or bleed. Or something, and Bruce heard J’onn through the communicator, his voice strained.

“Get him out of there!”

 _Flash_. He glanced around the base, where the structure was bleeding, and he nearly froze as he realized that the ground was bubbling, boiling. Heat. _Oh no._

“Flash, get out!”

* * *

So, okay, sometimes, when giant alien creature things bleed on you, it hurts.

Wally didn’t really notice, at first, but then it was burning and almost electric, and then his communicator zapped in his ear and he felt a sudden shock.

He stopped, stumbling and crashing to his knees as the giant drop of whatever on his back started to sear through the fabric, through his skin.

“Get it off! Get it off me!” He shouted, panicked and to no one in particular, twisting around to try and wipe it off and, _bad idea_ , it was burning through his gloves and his hands and oh god, he was going to die, he was going to die next to this giant nightmare of a thing and, god he was literally going to melt and maybe he’d melt into it and become it and _oh god_ at least he didn’t get a cat so it wouldn’t die and he wouldn’t have to worry about that and oh god it hurt so _god damn much_ -

Then he was encapsulated in green light, and still struggling and trying to take off his suit and yelling and-

It was suddenly cold and Flash couldn’t tell at first because it was still burning and the green light was gone oh god, get it _off him_.  J’onn was there and then Flash was on the plane, thoughts hazy with so much fire, fire, and it was either cold or hot and, he was on the Batplane, and Batman was there, saying something, but it all hurt so much.  

Hands on his arms were pinning him down, and then Batman was turning him onto his stomach and he was still yelling, in panic, resisting, and he’s quick to throw punches, trying to get them off, trying to get the god damn fire blood off his back-

“Flash, stay still,” Batman was saying, trying to push him back down, sounding frustrated, and a little in pain, and Wally doesn’t understand, not really, because his mind is flooded now and it’s this weird sense of paranoia that they were all trying to make him melt in front of him and then they would dissect him and-

“We’re not going to hurt you, kid,” Bruce was saying, wait, no, Batman was saying, and _that_ was weird but he was trying to sound nice and gentle and that was familiar and and Flash, no Wally, no Flash-

“Keep him still,” Batman was saying, loudly, sharply, and there was a strong grip on him and he saw Superman, saw Clark, saw Batman with a jar of something, saw Batman, saw- saw-

Nothing. 

* * *

When Wally came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was itchy. Blinking, he pushed himself to sit up, and met eyes with Shayera. Everything was dark, and then Wally was aware that they were moving. He was on the floor, of something…

“Where…”

“The jet,” came Batman’s voice, a little ahead of them, sounding slightly strained. “You fainted.”

Fainted. He fainted. God, why couldn’t Batman have said passed out from the mind blowing pain that he’d been in? Or even, knocked out? From pain. Knocked out. No, fainted. He fainted.

Strangely fixed on Batman’s terminology, he didn’t respond. Then there was a soft hand on his face, and he was looking up at Shayera, staring at him with affection and concern.

“We cooled you off. Your skin is healing. You were only out for a couple minutes,” she informed him, tone gentle. She pulled away, picking up her metal mace and glancing at Batman, still seated in the cockpit. “Keep him here. I’m going back to help.”

“Hey, I’m fine,” Wally said, starting to get to his feet and Shayera shot him a warning glare.

“Stay here. We’ve weakened it. It’s almost over.” The jet stopped moving and one of the doors open. Wally started towards it, feeling lethargic a bit, and the door shut.

“Stop moving. You’ve done enough.” Batman sounds pissed, or annoyed, or…something. Trying not to feel upset, Wally walked towards him as the jet started to move again. Right, it was a jet. So, Batjet.

“I’m fine. I heal fast. You know this, and you still treat me like I’m…” Wally trailed off, looking out the window at the frozen half structure of whatever the hell it had been. “Woah.”

“It relied on heat. We took that away from it,” Batman supplied, dryly.

Wally moved, maneuvering into the seat next to the other man, watching everyone kick ass.

“How’d you figure that out?” Wally asked, leaning forward a bit before suddenly noticing all the controls. _Woah_.

“Don’t touch anything. And it was thanks to you. The more you disrupted it, the faster it was generating its own heat.”

Wally relaxed a little, realizing he hadn’t been completely useless. His communicator crackled again in his ear and Wally winced, pulling it out and looking at it.

“Think it fried my comm.”

Batman didn’t even glance in his direction, now watching a small monitor in front of him.

“We’ll get you another one when we’re back at headquarters.”

“Right,” Wally said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh,”

“How’s your back?” Batman asked, still in that monotone dry voice.

“Fine. Can’t feel a thing. It wasn’t that bad.”

There’s silence as his lie hovered in the air, and Wally cringed a little, trying not to remember the epic freak out he’d been having.

Batman didn’t even look at him, but when he spoke, sounded a little muffled.

“If you weren’t able to heal so quickly, it would have burned right through you.”

Wally didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. He looked back at everyone else and then back at the man next to him, wondering if he needed to apologize or something.

Batman shifted, and then grimaced through the cowl and Wally realized that the other wasn’t annoyed. He was in pain.

“Hey, are you okay?” Wally started to get up, moving towards him.

“Yeah. Sit back down before you hurt yourself,” and the flash of discomfort was gone, perfectly masked the way everything about Batman was. Trying not to feel frustrated, and god was he frustrated, Wally sat back down.

There’s a moment of silence and Wally looked down at his hands, which had also been burning for a couple moments there, and tried not to shudder in recollection.

“Thanks, man.”

Batman didn’t respond, and Wally, by now, didn’t expect him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? A lot of the switching in between names is intentional. I think about that a lot. How getting into character, getting into a suit, getting into a role, requires a certain distancing that doesn't quite make sense.


	7. Black Eyed Billionaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally's trying to get his shit together and Bruce Wayne realizes he has no idea what he's doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot of fun with this fic. I hope you are too! Please always know that you can request things in the comments to happen in the fic, or on my tumblr: batflashed, which is currently ridden with headcanons and drabbles haha. Please enjoy!

Wally West was back at his apartment, lounging on his couch and staring at his phone. He was exhausted and it was late and absolutely not the time to give his date from earlier that night a call. Absolutely not.

Except something about nearly being killed, or well, just in an extreme amount of pain, really made Wally feel sentimental. Was that the right word? Maybe he just felt guilty for ditching his date to save some part of the world from…what had they been called? Batman had come up with a term, as he always did, during report. Whatever, clearly wasn’t important. 

Back to Bruce. Maybe Wally just missed him. Okay, that was ridiculous. He did not miss someone he’d just met that had kind of been stalking him for the past little while. Maybe stalking was too strong of a word.

On second thought, maybe it wasn’t.

Wally shifted around on the couch, trying to roll onto his back and with a small yelp, landed himself on the floor. His sofa cushion followed him, falling onto his face.

Shaking his head so that it fell off, Wally stared at the ceiling gloomily. What was he doing? Pining after some man like what they’d done earlier that day had indeed categorized itself as a date. What if it had been one of those heterosexual bro get togethers. Those existed, right? Maybe next time he saw the man, he should say “no homo” and…

God. Feelings were stupid. He felt around with his hand, grabbing the cushion and putting it back on his face.

He was tired.

He’d really thought for a moment there that he was going to die. Even remembering it now…He’d been so _scared_. And in that haze of panic and fear, he’d thought, ever so briefly, of the billionaire. Almost as though he’d been speaking to him.

Okay, back to Bruce, then. He’d give him a call tomorrow. See what was up. Maybe offer to go for brunch or something. Rich people did brunch, right? He’d come up with some money from his savings and pay for it. Yeah.

That sounded like a plan. Right. Okay, he made up his mind. He would absolutely, definitely, call Bruce Wayne tomorrow morning. Or, afternoon. Maybe evening. He was probably busy in the mornings.

...Or he could just wait until Bruce called him first.

Groaning, Wally rolled onto his stomach, stuffing his face into the cushion.

He definitely had it bad.

* * *

It was two days later that Wally found himself, having just woken up well into the day, with his phone in his hand as his brain tried to unmelt itself from his veins.

Bruce hadn’t sent him any food parcels, which Wally had started to rely on, settling on sleeping for some parts of the day instead of going grocery shopping. The packages had stopped and Wally forgot how to get back into the routine of actually functioning like a human being.

Though, it went without admission that his sense of functioning like a human being had been declining for a while prior to meeting the other man.

And now, as he blinked the sleep away and stared at his phone after a strange dream of which the billionaire, which may be avoiding him, had featured in, Wally’s heart clenched. He missed him and hadn’t called him.

 Now, though, in the daze of just having woken up, he almost mustered up the courage to give Bruce Wayne a phone call.

He’d been busy the past two days, which had been strangely exhausting as well. It was strange, as though he needed to recover from everything he was doing, but when he needed to do things, he did them, and quickly, but the minute he started to wind down, it felt as though he was literally winding down into nothing.

He thought about what he would tell Bruce. Well, yesterday he’d been ecstatic about being called to come in for an interview at the Central Police Station. They’d also mentioned to him another potential position to discuss, when he came in. Which was exciting! He could tell Bruce about that.

Also, the day before he’d had monitor duty with Shayera and, well, he probably couldn’t mention that, but it justified why he hadn’t called him the day before. Then again, if Bruce wanted to talk to him, he would, right?

And that’s exactly what he was thinking now, staring at his phone. He’d been resolved to make the call as soon as he woke up but a glance at the clock told him that he’d slept in again and he now had to leave shortly for monitor duty.

Which was another case altogether, because it was with Batman, who seemed to be avoiding him, and maybe…he should wait until after to give Bruce a call.

Except, if he did, then he would have the weight of almost three days of no interaction and the idea of maybe Bruce was sick of him and never wanted to speak to him again and he…kind of wanted to know sooner than later if he’d messed up somehow.

So he pressed dial, before he could give it a second thought. Bringing the phone to his ear, Wally waited, heart thumping in his ears.

“Bruce Wayne. Leave a message.” Beep.

It went straight to voicemail and Wally wasn’t prepared, eyes widening in panic.

 “Uh, woah, um,” he supplied immediately, and then cringed, realizing now it was too late to simply hang up. “Sorry, I uh. I guess. Your phone is off. Or dead. Or something.” Wally gulped, and then cringed again, wondering if his gulp had been too loud. What if he’d been blocked…?

There was a moment and he stayed on the line, mulling over that strangely nerve-wracking thought. Then, realizing now that he actually had to say something, Wally panicked all over again. Maybe he could hang up and change his phone number and change his address and live in the tower for the rest of his life.

He licked his suddenly dry lips, and cleared his throat.

“I guess you’re busy. I just wanted to check in. See when you were free. If you’re free. If you’re not, that’s okay too.” He paused, wondering what protocol was, what courtesy was, what the agenda for things like this was. “I, uh, had a really good time the other night. I’m really glad you, uh, called me. I’m…we can get brunch? My treat? Maybe downtown, instead of uptown. Haha, get it?”

Oh god. He needed to hang up immediately. Like, _now_.

Was there some way to cancel a voicemail before it went through?

“Well, uh, give me a call back, if you want. If you can. If you want, and can.” Wally paused, for what was probably the hundredth time. “Okay. Have a nice day. Or week. Life. Uh, yeah. Bye.” Wally pulled his phone away, fumbling to press the end button before tossing his phone onto the bed, as though it was on fire.

He was never going to do that again.

* * *

Okay. He wasn't sure if Bruce was avoiding him, but Batman was _definitely_ avoiding him. Like, obviously. Very obviously. Why was everyone avoiding him? Okay, not everyone, but it kind of felt like that right now.

Wally had made five comments in the last ten minutes and all he’d gotten were two grunts and this one time where Batman literally got up and left the room. Now he was back and just as silent as ever.

Really, it wasn’t about interacting with Batman. Monitor duty was just _so boring_ if you didn’t have someone to talk to. Of course, there was a little more to it than just not being bored, but…

“You know, there’s this movie out where there are talking food and it’s totally sexual and rated R?” Wally informed both Batman and the otherwise empty room because it might as well be at this point. He was interrupting the silence yet again, looking at the cloaked figure upside down from where he was hanging off his own chair. Blood was rushing to his head, but circulated his system quickly enough that it didn't actually pose a problem.

Batman grunted and typed something else. Wally stared at him for a moment before maneuvering around, swinging upright and twisting to face him. He knew Batman was always busy and always hated monitor duty. He knew Batman had better things to do. So why did this feel so sucky?

He pushed himself, wheeling over on his chair to where Batman was sitting, peering over his shoulder.

A report was up and there were points of interest on some of the surveillance cameras scattered across the monitor. Alright.

Batman hadn’t even looked at him.

“Hey, Bats?’ Wally finally asked, in a way that absolutely required some kind of minute version of interaction. The other man grunted, not even pausing as he typed, to show that he was paying attention. “Did I do something wrong?”

Batman finally halted, stilling at Wally’s words. There was a moment, and Wally regretted everything. Then he looked up, and most of his expression was masked, but those eyes met Wally’s own with a kind of steady apathy. And for some reason, Wally suddenly got ridiculously nervous.

“No, Flash. You didn’t.”

…Wonderful.

Wally felt his ears heat up as Batman continued to stare at him, now with a strange intensity.

“Uh-”

“I’m busy.” Batman said, cutting him off and redirecting his attention back to the screen.

Right.

“Uh, okay. I’m going to get something to eat. Did you want anything?” Wally asked, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck.

Batman looked at him at that, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you get enough to eat at home?”

Well, that came out of left lane, causing Wally to blink as he tried to follow Batman’s train of thoughts.

“Uh, yeah. But the kitchen here is always stocked. And I get hungry a lot.” Wally paused, opting not to add the, _especially lately_ that was more accurate than anything else.  Because he had been getting hungrier lately, a little more groggy and tired in the mornings, and sleeping way too much some days.

He blamed some of it on his latest stresses, aka a certain billionaire, and trying to keep track of cash. And maybe he just needed to recharge for a bit.

Batman regarded him in silence, and Wally took it all back. He didn’t want the older man paying him this much attention. This was a strange feeling, and Wally was the first to look away, moving to the exit.

“I’ll, uh, be back,” he quickly said before zipping away, not waiting for any kind of response.

* * *

Two hours later found Wally being gently shaken awake from where he’d fallen asleep seated at the desk at the other end of the room, out of Batman’s view.

He blinked a couple times, surprised at what had to be Batman, so…gentle…? And looked up to stare at Shayera instead.

“Huh?” Wally straightened up, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and looking around. Was monitor duty over already?

“Batman had to leave and asked me to take over. Something came up, I think.” She paused while Wally attempted to process her words. “He told me to let you sleep, but I figured I’d wake you up anyway,” She finished easily, smiling brightly as she moved to sit on the desk he was at, looking at him. “Did you get enough sleep last night?’

Wally mulled it over, still a little disoriented and then a little offended. Batman had just walked out on him? Rude.

Oh well, at least Shayera was here now.

* * *

Wally got home to his phone ringing, and realizing he’d left it on his bed, sped quickly to grab it. And then paused, even as it continued to ring, staring at the now familiar numbers that he had  _still_ yet to register onto his phone.

He picked up without a second thought, nervousness leaking into his fingers and numbing them.

“Hi,” he heard himself say, in this weird voice that didn’t really sound like himself.

“Wally?” Wally’s heart lurched at the sound of his name on the other’s lips. That’s right. The other man had never said his name. Strangely fixated on that realization, Wally didn’t respond.

And right, he still hadn’t come to an internal consensus on what to call the other man.

“Are you there?” The voice on the other line sounded a little unsure and Wally kicked into gear.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I was…doing something.” Wally felt like he was back in high school. “What’s up?”

A pause and Wally drew a complete blank.

“You left me a message. Brunch, I think you mentioned?” And there was _that_ familiar tone, voice sounding light and easy and almost playful. Bruce sounded like he was smiling.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Right. Downtown.” He relaxed a little, letting himself smile. “You down?”

There’s a small pause and then a soft chuckle and it wrapped Wally up in warmth.

"Of course. When will you be available? This weekend works for me." There was some shuffling in the background and Wally had to wonder if the other man intentionally would clear up his schedule for him.

Well, _that_ was certainly narcissistic _._

"Sunday?" Wally offered, trying not to sound as eager as he felt. "Brunch, so that's like..11 o'clock, right?"

Bruce chuckled and Wally's stomach fluttered at the sound.

"Yeah. I'll see you then," Bruce responding, tone light, gentle almost.

Wally found himself nodding to no one in particular.

"Okay. It's a..plan!" He'd wanted to say date, but maybe that was testing the waters too much.

"Have a good night, then," Bruce said and Wally couldn't help but grin.

"You too!" And then, quickly, before waiting for the other to respond because he felt a complicated mix of anxiety and affection, he hung up.

Promptly falling back onto his bed, he realized his face was burning and, oh man. He really did have it bad.

* * *

Bruce Wayne had a headache. Fingers massaging his temples, he stared at the phone now resting on his desk, and then glanced up at the monitors across from him. The Batcave was silent, as it usually was these days.

He was acutely aware of the fact that he was at a crossroads, and instead of taking an actual route, he was in the process of digging a hole for himself.

Bruce cared for the Flash, cared for the man within the suit, and understood that Wally was important to their team. He'd also noticed that the other had been getting tired quicker and required replenishment more frequently.  That’s what had triggered all this to begin with.

He was Batman. He studied everyone within the team, had reports, monitored not only Gotham but their behaviours and activity. And Flash's wellbeing appeared to have been declining.

So, he paid closer attention, the way he _did,_ the way he was supposed to.  As he would have with anyone else, anything else. And he'd attempted to speak to Flash on several occasions about his eating habits, about his sleeping habits, and he'd been brushed off with the other quite evidently annoyed at him.

So, aware of the fact that Bruce Wayne was far more approachable than Batman, he decided to attempt again without the suit. Instead of, like an actual person, attempting to continue to have a conversation with someone he could call a teammate, maybe even, a friend.

Except, clearly, they weren't friends.

Because Flash had been getting increasingly more and more annoyed at any expression of concern from Bruce. And whenever Bruce was in a position where he didn't know what to do, he often went undercover.

So he did.

Clearly, this was not the way to handle things, he was realizing.

He'd realized this shortly after their dinner together, and then after the fight. He didn't know how to act around Wally anymore, as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. And how could he explain that he decided to...do whatever it is that he'd decided to do?

_Yeah, so, you wouldn’t talk to me about your life so I decided to pretend to be someone else who is actually me and approach you that way to break the ice._

Also, he had a black eye from when Flash had thrown a punch during his little fit while Bruce had been _terrified_ that the other was about to die right in front of him. How would Bruce Wayne explain that?

He thought that maybe it would be better if he just stepped back and asked someone else to ask Wally what was going on, but for some reason, Bruce missed the way that Wally was with Bruce Wayne. He loved the open gazes and flushed cheeks and not defensive irritation that always seemed to transpire from their conversations lately.

He loved the easiness in which they could interact, dynamics that he didn’t quite expect. And to take care of, in a sense, through offering food and presence, Wally. Without the younger rejecting him, protesting, as though he was in someway inconveniencing him…

Some of that was present in his relationship with Wally as Bruce, but not as heavily. Wally was easier with him. Comfortable with him. Open to him. And he liked that. It presented Bruce with a sense of safety, a sense of…

He groaned, placing his face in his hands, realizing that he was in too deep. Or maybe, he wasn’t, but it felt as though he was now walking a tightrope that could potential destroy both relationships with the redhead. And he cared, because teamwork, and group dynamics, and they were a team, and…

And he still hadn’t come to an answer about Wally’s wellbeing, and whether or not he was actually fine, or not. Whether or not Wally was _healthy_. Which had been his primary concern. His only concern, initially.

Now, it was complicated. And no one’s fault but his own.

And it was affecting him. Because when Flash had been in danger, when Wally had been in danger, it was difficult to keep a cool head, to keep calm. Because when Wally had been panicking, shouting, throwing punches, he’d been too focused on applying the solution than to avoid flying fists. He’d been too focused on getting Flash, getting Wally, to calm down, to breathe, to stop _crying_ from pain.

It had been terrifying, the way he’d, for a split second, not known what to do. He’d frozen, almost paralyzed, debilitated by fear at the prospect of Wally being in pain, let alone something worse, actual physical, possibly fatal, damage. He’d been terrified.

It would have burned right through him, if not for his regenerative abilities. And after all he’d been doing to avoid just that…

His throat tightened slightly, and he shook his head a bit, trying to clear it.

Brunch. He should have just ignored the voicemail and let it end, the way he’d intended. Yet…

Steeling himself, he straightened up and redirected his attention to the monitors in front of him. He would deal with it when the time came. Until then, he would play it by ear. And, hey, billionaires sometimes got clumsy and fell down stairs or whatever, which would explain the slowly fading black eye.

As opposed to, of course, _you punched me in the face while I was saving your life, oh by the way, I’m Batman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After you read this chapter, go back and read the chapter before again and maybe you'll read a bit of it differently and notice the things that I included that probably seemed like it didn't make any sense... Also, this feels like a filler chapter, but I was trying to figure out what was going to happen and how I wanted their dynamics to be, so I hope you like it.


	8. Punch, Crunch, and Brunch with Men of Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Wally go out for brunch and things start to move along a little faster, sort of. So much for SPEED dating. All Wally seems to be quick at is making poor decisions. 
> 
> In which Wally West and Bruce Wayne go out for brunch, and it’s totally their second date, and Wally does a lot of thinking and probably is a little bit in love with playboy billionaire of Gotham. Not to be confused with brooding, annoying, overbearing dark knight of Gotham, who was totally someone else but still, for some inexplicable reason, interrupted Wally’s thoughts just as frequently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to realizing that every time I start up a chapter, it goes in a completely different way than I expect it to. Though, I think I'm getting a hang of where this fic is going. Keep in mind that this is totally an AU fic, based on a prompt, and most of it sort of takes place before Starcrossed in Justice League, DCAU, where Wally has no idea who Batman is and Batman knows who everyone's identity is.

Sunday came quickly enough. Wally had refused to be picked up, stressing to Bruce, when he’d called, that he was already in the area, and that all Bruce had to do was show up. Of course, it had been a lie, but he really didn’t stand the idea of yet another long, unnecessary car ride. Too slow, and too cramped.

So now, he was standing out of an All Day Breakfast place, wearing a shirt and some jeans, because this absolutely was not the kind of place you would wear a suit to. Though, now that he thought about it, Bruce Wayne would very likely probably show up in a suit and tie.

He blinked, quickly reaching for his phone and opening up the messaging application. And then he stared at it. What happened if he started texting Bruce? Was the other man a texter? Maybe the reason they called each other so often was because Bruce Wayne did not enjoy texting?

Was he thinking too hard about this?

The sound of a car engine pulling up next to where he stood on the sidewalk alerted Wally to the presence of a limo. He blinked, as an older gentlemen stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked around to open the passenger seat. And out stepped Bruce Wayne.

Wally’s breath caught in his throat. The other man must have gotten the memo that the place was casual. He was greeted with the sight of Bruce Wayne with slight stubble on his jaw, a white dress shirt with the sleeves folded half way, collar popped up, and dark blue jeans.

Wally stared. He stared, and realized, with the sudden twist in his stomach, that even if he wasn’t already developing some kind of romantic feelings for the other man, he was definitely, absolutely, attracted to him. Bruce Wayne was startlingly handsome.

And he knew that, he did, but this, with the sunglasses being casually removed, and blue eyes now glancing over him with affection, Wally felt completely struck. It was different, seeing Bruce in a suit, as though he was different, distant, as though they were on completely different levels. Of course, they still were, and Wally was acutely aware of the fact that he was _still_ somehow underdressed, compared to the other.

“Uh,” he offered, as Bruce stepped forward, smiling softly at him and pocketing his sunglasses. And then, Wally noticed a slight purplish bruising along the other’s jaw, and frowned a little. It wasn’t that noticeable, due to the scruff, which apparently Wally was really, _really_ drawn to, but it was still there. “What happened to you?”

Bruce blinked, perplexed, and then glancing down at his attire before looking back at Wally, curiously.

“Hm? I checked with Alfred to see if there was a dress code, and I was informed that it was casual…”

“No, uh, your face,” Wally quickly supplied, gesturing at Bruce’s face as he stepped closer, frowning a bit. It was fading, but it looked as though the other had been in a physical fight of some kind.

“I fell down the stairs,” Bruce answered with a shrug, and Wally blinked before looking completely amused. He immediately imagined the graceful, formal, billionaire, toppling down the stairs. It was kind of funny, in hindsight, seeing as the other didn’t seem to actually have harmed himself.

That would have been a sight.

And then Bruce walked passed him, opening the door to the restaurant, if you could call it that, and Wally walked in as he held it for him, feeling very self conscious.

It was only after they’d seated on some barstools by the window, menu open on the table, did Wally trust himself to speak, and still regret the words that left his lips.

“You didn’t shave,” he blurted out.

Bruce glanced up from the menu, raising an eyebrow.

“I, uh,” He paused, lips turning up slightly in what was clearly an amused smile, and Wally felt his ears start to burn. “I wasn’t aware that I needed to?”

Wally shook his head quickly, clenching his hands quickly, feeling very overwhelmed and silly.

“No, uh, I just. It looks good. You look, uh. Good.”

Great. He was a stammering mess. His thoughts were in complete disarray, speeding through his mind at a pace that when he opened his mouth, he was sure only fragments would pour out.

Bruce smiled wider at that, meeting Wally’s gaze steadily.

“As opposed to, awful, I take it?”

Wally couldn’t get over how _smooth_ the other spoke.

“No, uh,” he scrambled a little, to get his thoughts, bringing his hands up onto the table to fumble a bit with the menu. “You always, look good. It’s just, um, a different kind of, uh, good.”

Bruce chuckled softly, and Wally immediately found himself responding to the sound, relaxing slightly.

“You always do, too,” he responded, with the slightest tilt of his head, glancing at Wally with sincerity sparkling in those blue eyes that Wally was slowly really starting to…like.

And then those words registered and Wally found himself blushing, feeling the warmth on his cheeks and quickly pressed his lips together, feeling like an idiot. Oh my god.

Um. All of his thoughts came to a crashing halt, and Wally stared at Bruce with wide eyes and a red face, and Bruce simply smiled at him before redirecting his attention at the waitress who’d arrived for their order.

He was still staring at Bruce, completely speechless, when the waitress turned to him, memo pad and pen poised for his order.

“Um. Pancakes.” He managed, quickly glancing down at the menu and scanning every single option. Food. Right. Trying to forget the man across from him, Wally instead focused on the hunger. He’d woken up simultaneously exhausted and starving, and had already eaten a couple servings of leftover dinner for breakfast before he’d headed here. Yet, he was hungry again, and maybe some of the disorientation with Bruce could be attributed to it. Maybe not. That was up for the jury.

“With blueberries. And whipped cream. Five pancakes. And waffles. With whipped cream. Strawberry jam for that one. Oh, and chocolate syrup. Oh, and some of these sausages. Home fries? Yeah, those too. And, did I say pancakes? I want pancakes and waffles. Oh! And this omelette looks really good. Two of those. And orange juice. And apple juice. Oh! And this weird looking, oh, soufflé? That looks really good!”

He looked back up at the waitress who was quickly scrambling to write everything down, and smiled a little sheepishly. “Do you, uh, want me to repeat…that?”

She smiled at him, not at all looking as annoyed as he’d expected her to, before shaking her head. She signed at him, telling him she got his order, and Wally quickly signed back, signing both ‘thank you,’ and ‘sorry, I’m really hungry’. She laughed and walked away.

“You sign?” Bruce asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Wally responded. “At the orphanage, some of the kids…” he shrugged a little. “It’s not that hard. I can teach you, if you want?” He grinned then, cocking his head.

Bruce shook his head, smiling a little, looking at Wally as though he was looking at him for the first time. It filled Wally with a sense of warmth.

“I know a little, but I wouldn’t mind that.” Bruce paused, and then gave Wally a look, the smile faltering slightly, and Wally got nervous, wondering if the other was going to comment on his order. “About last time…was everything okay?”

Wally blinked, and then shook his head quickly, some of his forever messy hair falling into his face. He quickly pushed it back, offering the other a grin, easing up a bit.

“Yeah. Things got a little messy, but we fixed it.” Wally smiled a little, recalling the panic that had left some kind of remnant in his veins, accompanying the exhaustion that seemed to have solidify in his everyday. It wasn’t as bad right now, mostly because he’d spent the better portion of the past two days sleeping, and eating.

“Your friend is okay?” Bruce pressed, staring at Wally as though he had no where else to look. Which was probably the case, after all, they were the only ones at the table, and Wally was definitely overthinking all of this.

He barely recalled his half-assed excuse before he’d abandoned the other before. At the mention of friend, however, his thoughts were drawn to the other older man in his life, the one who seemed to expertly be avoiding him. Even at the past two meetings, Batman hadn’t said a word to him, beyond, “Are you okay?” and “Pay attention, Flash.”

Both times, the words had been laced with an almost lecturing, stern, tone, and Wally hated the idea that the other man was coddling him.

“He’s fine,” Wally responded, still thinking about the caped crusader. “At least,” he paused, glancing down at his hands, realizing that he was fidgeting with his fingers, and forcing them to stay still. “I hope he is.”

There was a pause then, and Wally blinked quickly, looking back up at Bruce who was no longer looking at him, but rather, out the window.

“Central City is different, compared to Gotham,” Bruce commented, and Wally realized that he hadn’t really had a chance to look around Gotham with Bruce previously, but knew enough about the city to compare the two. Gotham was definitely darker, more crime ridden, though Central had its corners and alleys. Most cities did.

“It’s a good place,” Wally said, smiling a little and following the other’s gaze. “With good people,” he added, more to himself. He loved Central City. He’d give his life for this city. He thought of Batman, with Gotham. The other man would do the same for his city. No wonder he was so busy.

Maybe they could find some common ground in that. He’d bring up Central City, the next time he had monitor duty with the other man. Hell, maybe he’d even mention Bruce Wayne. Maybe Batman knew a thing or two about the prized billionaire of Gotham. He probably knew everything. Hell, he probably had reports on him.

…He really needed to fix whatever was going on between him and the Dark Knight.

“So, orphanage?” Bruce commented, drawing Wally’s attention back to pretty blue eyes flickering with interest.

“Ah, yeah, I spend some holidays there, when I get time…and I have a lot of free time, so, yeah,” Wally added, with a little laugh, shrugging. Bruce continued to stare at him, something soft in those eyes that he couldn’t understand, and Wally once more, felt ridiculously self-conscious.

Bruce nodded, and then a line of servers arrived, holding plates that were mostly for him, and Wally felt his face burn up once more, noticing the laughter in Bruce’s eyes, accompanying the grin on his face.

Well, at least he’d be too busy eating to bother with actually making more of a fool of himself.

* * *

It was only after they ate, and Wally had been persistent on paying despite Bruce’s grandiose statements of being a billionaire, when Bruce got up and Wally accompanied him to exit the building, did Wally call to attention the…attention that Bruce Wayne had drawn from the others within the building. Everyone was staring at him.

And, he didn’t blame them. But, he realized, as he fell into step on the sidewalk next to the other, that Bruce Wayne was kind of, actually, _famous_. Even in Central. Known for his good looks, charm, and wealth. Even he’d known that.

Yet, now, Wally was even _more_ aware. If that was even possible. And also, how he probably _paled_ in comparison. It didn’t help that he’d exhausted most of the energy that he’d gained by eating, almost immediately after he’d eaten it, and more than anything else, wanted to go back to sleep. He felt heavy, weighted, and still unaccustomed to the feeling.

It must have shown on his face, because suddenly Bruce was asking, “Are you alright?”

He blinked up at the other man, immediately feeling guilty. Here, he was, completely zoning out while Bruce Wayne was…accompanying him down the sidewalk with no actual direction or intention.

“Yeah,” Wally responded, a little too quickly, quickly offering the other man a smile and then rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been getting enough sleep,” he lied, well aware that the issue was he was getting probably too much sleep and it still wasn’t enough. So, technically, he wasn’t lying.

“Really?” Bruce asked, an infliction to his tone that sounded doubtful, but that could also totally have simply been Wally projecting his internalized thoughts onto the other’s voice.

Wally wondered if there was any use in actually confiding in the stranger that had recently become an acquaintance, if not friend. He probably didn’t have anything to lose. That was the thing about strangers – they usually didn’t really care. And, at the very least, it was likely that Bruce Wayne was simply bored and Wally had managed to somehow grab his curiosity.

“Wally?” And there it was, his name again, on the other’s lips. It was almost disorienting. Wally blinked, looking up at the older man, and forcing a smile on his face, trying not to think about the fact that he very likely was some kind of Flavor of the Week for Bruce Wayne.

And, even if that wasn’t the case, due to who he was, as the Flash, it was unlikely that they actually had any type of potential future. Also, Bruce Wayne was, well, _Bruce Wayne_ , and he was ridiculous for even imagining anything else. Maybe after this date, they wouldn’t meet up again. Maybe, after this date, that probably wasn’t even a date, they _shouldn’t_.

And if that was the case…

He shrugged a little, looking away from Bruce and down the sidewalk. It was a busy afternoon. He should probably go home and rest up, in case anything came up and he didn’t have enough energy to respond. That had yet to happen, but with the way his body had been weighing him down lately, it was something he was starting to get concerned about.

“Well, it’s not that I haven’t been sleeping enough. It just feels like…no matter how much I sleep, it’s not enough?” Wally laughed, shaking his head, trying not to sound as concerned as he felt. “I’m probably just coming down with the flu or something.”

“Have you seen a doctor?” Bruce asked, and Wally took note of the strange gravity in his words. As though this was really important, almost _crucial_ , and Wally gave Bruce a confused look.

“It’s not that serious, trust me. I usually need some time to, uh,” recharge was _definitely_ not the right word in this context, but… “-recharge, I guess?” He laughed, shrugging. “I honestly haven’t been doing much, but I feel a little burned out.” He paused, and then lit up, looking back at Bruce, who looked contemplative.

“Oh! I got a job! With Central City Police Department.” He grinned. “I start on Monday!”

Bruce smiled, and the frown disappeared, which Wally was grateful for.

“Congratulations! That means I won’t have to be supplying you with food anymore?” Bruce asked, almost in a teasing tone, eyebrow raised and Wally found himself blushing.

“Uh, you never had to, but like, uh, I mean-“

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Bruce cut in before laughing softly. “It’s honestly been a pleasure. Has it been enough?” And there was a slight change in his tone, then, as though prodding once more, about Wally’s health, and Wally wondered if he was getting paranoid.

Not everyone had an underlying motive, he told himself before nodding quickly.

“Yeah, no, it’s been great! I really, really appreciate it! You also, totally, really don’t have to, I mean-“ Like, I’m some kind of charity case, which I’m _not_ , but those words went unsaid, especially accompanying Wally’s earlier ideations of probably never seeing Bruce Wayne again.

“I really enjoy spending time with you, Wally West,” Bruce suddenly said, and Wally felt caught off guard. Actually, was literally caught off guard, nearly tripping over his own feet, if not for the sudden, firm grasp on his arm, hoisting him to straighten back up.

 _Woah._ All of Wally’s attention zapped to the place where Bruce Wayne had his upper arm in a solid grip, firm, stable, warm, and all of Wally’s thoughts went out of the window. Drawing a blank, he blinked, and then the moment was over, as the other man let go and gave Wally a curious, almost concerned look.

Right, it hadn’t actually lasted that long. It had simply felt as though it had.

“Careful,” Bruce supplied, and Wally was suddenly aware of everything going at a painstakingly slow pace. Maybe he needed to go back home. But he, really didn’t want to.

Instead, he chose to focus on the sincerity in the other’s voice, the gentleness at which he’d spoken before actually reaching out and making physical contact which had apparently caused Wally’s mind to shut down.

“I really enjoy spending time with you too, uh, Bru-uh, Mr-” He trailed off, realizing he’d yet to actually say Bruce and suddenly feeling flustered.

“You can call me Bruce,” The other interjected, gently, and Wally felt his ears heat up once more.

“Bruce,” He responded, softly, smiling a little.

There was a moment where they both continued to stand there, and then Wally ran a hand through his hair, looking back up at Bruce, and realizing that they were just kind of standing in the middle of a fairly busy sidewalk, staring at each other after he’d stupidly tripped over his own feet.

His face heated up at that, and Bruce gave him such an easy smile that Wally wanted to melt right then and there.

Instead, he sort of fidgeted with the hem of his shirt and then pulled it down a bit, running his hands over his shirt in an absent move to flatten the wrinkles and then started walking down the sidewalk again. Bruce followed in step with him and Wally glanced back up at the other before looking back down at his feet.

God, he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Or say. Or even, go. 

“So, do we have a destination in mind, or should I be calling Alfred?” Bruce asked in that same light tone, raising an eyebrow, smile still playing at his lips, and Wally found himself blushing, yet again.

“Uh, there’s a museum up ahead. Do you wanna go there, maybe?” Wally gestured emptily at Central City’s Museum and Bruce smiled, nodding.

“Of course.” Bruce looked back up ahead at the road and Wally looked back down at his feet, this time stuffing both of his hands into his pockets.

After a couple moments, he looked back up at Bruce, now curious.

“So, Alfred is your…butler?”

Bruce looked at Wally with some surprise before nodding, and that soft easy smile almost seemed permanent on the other’s expression. Was that because of him, or was Bruce Wayne just a smiler? Either way, Wally found himself smiling right back.

“He’s more than that. He’s family. But, yes, technically.”

Woah. Wally wished _he_ had a butler.

“Alfred. Huh. That’s a butlery name,” Wally said, instead, and promptly felt like an idiot. Instead, Bruce laughed, and Wally found himself laughing as well.

* * *

“Flash,” Batman’s voice cut through, as Wally stepped into the elevator, and Wally glanced up at the suited man, holding the elevator door open. It was clear that the other was frowning at him, and Wally had no idea what he’d done wrong this time around.

“Bats,” he responded, giving the other a little smile.

The other’s expression didn’t falter, and Batman looked at Wally with an intensity that was starting to become familiar in his interactions with the other man.

“Are you okay?”

Great. All Batman did lately was inquire about his wellbeing. Like he was some kind of incompetent child who had no sense of self-preservation. Well, the latter _might_ be true, but still. He could take care of himself.

He tried not to let the annoyance show on his face.

“I’m fine, Bats. Believe it or not, I _can_ take care of myself. And if that changes, you’ll be the first to know,” he responded, his tone a little dry. Either Batman was ignoring him or asking him if he was okay. He was getting kind of sick of being infantilized, almost patronized.

Something in Batman’s expression flickered, changed at his words, and he let go of the elevator door, nodding.

“Have a good night, Flash,” the other man said, in a strange voice that unsettled Wally for whatever reason, but he forgot about it the moment the doors closed, instead reflecting on his earlier day with the man, Bruce Wayne, that he was absolutely certain he’d developed feelings for.

Oh man, these men of Gotham, they were really getting to him in the weirdest most complicated of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm really slow with chapters, but I ramble a lot on tumblr, so feel free to check me out there! Thank you for reading, I appreciate all of your comments so much. So much. Also, I have a lot of fun just kind of toying around with Wally's thought process ironically and I hope you laugh when I do. Thank you so much for reading! I'll probably edit later, after I press post.


	9. Miscommunication and Excommunication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wally asks Batman about Bruce Wayne.

“He treats me like I’m still Kid Flash,” Wally lamented loudly, dropping his face against the desk. Shayera let out a laugh, ruffling his hair before picking up her mace. 

“He does not. He simply cares, that’s all,” she offered, gently, humor in her tone. “Now stop sulking. He’ll be here shortly to take over.” Wally thought, again, how much he  _loved_ Shayera. And then, at her words, wanted to whine all over again. 

Wally groaned, lifting his head up to look at the other woman and making a face.

“Great.”  He paused, wrinkling his nose, and then sighed. “He thinks I don’t know how to do _anything_. Like I’m a bomb just waiting to go off." Wally sniffed, scratching at his head absently. "I hate it.”

He knew he sounded like he was whining, he knew he sounded like a child, but they’d just completed another mission where Batman had thrown him wary glances the entire time throughout. So much so that Wally wanted to ask the other man if he wanted to take a  _picture_ \- it would  _last_ longer. The other's gaze had been intense, fixed. 

Which had only served to make Wally even _more_ self conscious than he already was around the other man.

“C’mon, Flash. You know it’s far more than that,” She chided, gently, leaning against the desk. She glanced down at her mace, and then shrugged. “He knows your level of competency. You did make him bleed the other day, after all.”

Wally blinked at the other woman in confusion, before sitting up a bit, frowning.

“What? When?” He wracked his brain, trying to remember when he’d _ever_ made Batman bleed. “I’ve never…” He trailed off, squinting a little. 

Shayera looked back up at Wally, surprise in her expression.

“Huh. I’d have figured he told you. You punched him in the face a couple times when he was trying to hold you still during that mission you got burned,” Shayera cocked her head, continuing to look surprised. “He really didn’t tell you? His nose was bleeding through his cowl, at one point,” Shayera pointed out, gesturing at her face absently.

Wally drew a blank, merely staring at Shayera. He’d… _what_? No, he hadn’t?

“No, he…he didn’t say anything,” Wally said, straightening up completely. “I don’t…was it even in a report?”

Shayera looked like she was mulling it over, before offering a slight shrug. “There were more important things at hand. Like keeping you safe,” she said, giving him a pointed look with a slight smile. “It makes sense that he didn’t mention it, I suppose.”

Wally didn’t know what to say to that, surprised that the older man hadn’t chewed him out for, one, being reckless, and for two, being…reckless.

“Would’ve thought he’d rip my head off for it,” Wally mused aloud, and Shayera laughed softly, straightening up off the desk and starting towards the exit.

“You don't give him enough credit." She glanced over at Wally over her shoulder. "He has a funny way of showing he cares,” She supplied, in a gentle voice, the smile on her face showing in her voice.

 _What_?

Wally looked dubious, raising an eyebrow at the other woman.

“You think he _cares_?’ He asked, incredulity in his tone.

Shayera, who had stepped towards the door frame, paused, looking back at Wally curiously.

“You think he _doesn’t_?” She turned around completely, facing Wally again, now with mild surprise on her face. “Are you serious?”

Wally faltered slightly at the sharp look Shayera was giving him.

“I mean, we don’t really…have a working relationship,” Wally finished, gesturing with his hand kind of uselessly.

Shayera simply looked at Wally, an eyebrow raised.

“You…need to discuss that with him,” she said, slowly, amusement amidst disapproval flickering in her gaze. “But from where I am…You clearly have a relationship, enough so that he’s asking where you are when you’re late, and enough so that he’s…” Shayera trailed off and shrugged.

“He just doesn’t want to compromise the mission.” Wally paused, before correcting himself, “No. He doesn’t want _me_ to compromise the mission.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“That’s all Batman ever wants, I suppose,” Shayera conceded, a frown on her face.

“What is it that I want, exactly?” Both of them froze at the sound of the other man’s low voice, and Wally’s eyes widened slightly. Batman stepped in, smoothly walking past Shayera and fixing his gaze, instead, on Wally. The older man paused, standing in front of the desk across from the speedster, cocking his head slightly, studying the speedster.  

Wally. who was a lot redder than he’d have liked to been. He felt the flush heat up his neck, cheeks, and ears.

The room went quiet at the cowled man’s words, and Wally found himself at a loss. Thank _god_ for Shayera, who cleared her throat and gestured absently with her mace.

“Completed missions, Batman. That’s what you’re all about,” she answered, before giving Wally a curious, mild look. “And, I was just telling Wally about that bloody nose he gave you,” she added, after a moment, and Wally turned to look at Batman at that – who’d gone strangely still.

Huh. _Weird_. Something on Batman’s expression told Wally that he’d had no intention of Wally knowing – or, rather, had the utter intention of Wally _not_ knowing. Weird. What was _that_ about?

“Right,” Batman said, tone almost steely. Shayera blinked, shooting Wally a curious glance, before taking the other man’s tone as her cue to go.

“Well, I’ll take my leave. See you later,” Shayera said, exiting and closing the door behind her, leaving both Wally and Batman to sit in the tension left behind.

Wally cleared his throat, pointedly glancing down at his hands, and in his peripheral, saw the other man take a seat.

And then the sound of typing, and Wally raised his head, only to meet Batman’s gaze in the reflection of the monitor. There was a moment as the other man stopped typing when Wally looked up.

“I’m sorry.” The words fell from his lips before he could consider them. He could barely even believe that he _had_ caused the other harm, but if he _had-_ it was only right he apologized, surely.

Batman's response was almost immediate.

“It’s not your fault. I should have been more careful.”

Wally resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Only _Batman_ would blame himself for being punched in the face by a speedster freaking out.

“I made you _bleed_.”

“And I should have been more careful. It’s fine, and it’s over.” His words held a tone of finality, and Wally frowned.

"I should have been more careful," Wally said, under his breath. 

A pause, followed by a curt, "You should have."

They both fell into silence, Wally staring defiantly at the reflection of Batman’s expression.

And then the other tore his gaze away, returning his attention to whatever report it was he was typing up, leaving Wally to simply continue staring at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, after a moment, staying where he was seated. It was strange – this tension between them. Another day, he might have zipped right up to Bats, asked to see the damage, apologized profusely. Today, for some reason, he couldn’t.

“Because you would do _this_ , Flash.” Batman didn't look up, but his tone was terse. "You'd make it a bigger deal that it actually is."

Another moment of silence, but the typing continued. The older man was undeterred by Wally’s words, and it left Wally at a loss. He didn’t like this, whatever it was.

Batman wasn’t social, by no means, but lately, it was different. And it wasn’t _friendly_. It wasn’t…anything. There was some sort of distance between them, and Wally knew it had to do with the way the other treated him – like a _child_. Even in the manner of not having _mentioned_ to Wally that he’d inflicted harm onto him – so that Wally wouldn’t _apologize_.

It would have been infuriating, if Wally had more energy. Now, however, all he could feel was a kind of detached guilt, accompanying the perpetual exhaustion that seemed to have settled in his veins.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Wally repeated, softly this time, almost mumbling.

At his words, the typing stopped, and Wally hadn’t realized that he’d dropped his gaze to the table in front of him. Whatever _this_ was between them, he didn’t like it. And more than that – he was _tired_.

“I know you didn’t, Flash.” The other man’s voice was almost unfamiliar, bordering _gentle_. Wally snapped his gaze up at the other’s tone, only to find that the other was watching him in the monitor’s reflection once more.

“Can I see?” Wally asked the question before he’d even thought it, and it was only after he spoke that he felt his ears heat up. He’d just asked for more than the other man was likely to ever give.

“No,” came the immediate deadpanned response, and Wally couldn’t say he was surprised.

They fell back into a silence, but it wasn’t quite as heavy as it had been earlier. Wally resisted the urge to apologize again, feeling silly and – for lack of a better word, _childish_.

The typing resumed, and Wally went back to studying his hands. Maybe he could take a nap. There was no point attempting to pursue any kind of conversation with Batman, not when it was drawing out all the energy he had in his reserve simply to maintain a semblance of interaction with him.

Yet, he found his gaze drawn once more, now to the back of Batman’s head, studying the cowl, studying the cape absently.

Maybe…they could talk about something else. Something closer to home.

“Bruce Wayne.”

* * *

The two words were enough for Bruce to stop typing, a type of chill numbing the tips of his fingers as his entire frame tensed. Wally saying his name could mean a multitude of things.

But more than anything else, it spoke to his failure – to the fact that he’d been exposed – to the fact that Wally was smarter, smarter than Bruce had ever given him credit for being, and rightly so. That Wally had pieced it together despite Bruce wishing _desperately_ that he wouldn’t – that the injuries weren’t connected, that –

He still hadn’t responded. He _needed_ to respond. His lips had gone dry, and Bruce’s breath caught somewhere in his throat. Only Wally – only _Wally_ – could catch him at unawares like this. Though, Wally didn’t sound particularly upset – _betrayed_ – and that had to have counted for something.

Bruce didn’t trust himself to speak, or to turn around, or to even glance at Wally’s reflection in the monitor. Instead, he stared at his own reflection, running through scenarios he’d run through time and time before – even while they’d been at the museum, Wally laughing and pointing and smiling – the guilt that came with knowing that he was _actively_ lying to him.

Until now.

“He’s yours, isn’t he?” Wally asked, and Bruce blinked, attempting to piece the words into context and coming up blank. It was the first time in a long time that he was left at a complete loss. He still didn’t respond, realizing that he was giving himself away with every passing moment – without denial, without even an explanation.

He hadn’t prepared for this in the slightest.

“Like, Gotham’s, I guess,” Wally rephrased, uncertainty in his tone, after a moment, and then it clicked.

Oh. _Oh_. Wally was asking _him_ about Bruce Wayne. Oh.

 _Oh_.

And then, Bruce realized, what he decided to do or say next was _crucial_.

* * *

 

Batman hadn’t responded. Hadn’t even looked up, or looked at him. Wally couldn’t read his expression, and was too busy preoccupying himself with his fingers again, aware of the fact that his ears were probably red. He was _blushing_ , like some idiot.

He'd brought up Bruce, simply said the other man's _name_ , and immediately there were butterflies.

What was he even thinking? What was he going to say? That he wanted relationship advice from Batman about a citizen of Gotham? God, this was a bad idea. This was the _worst_ idea.

But it was too late, and Batman still hadn’t responded, and Wally kind of wanted to throw up. Yet, he needed to fill up the silence, and he found himself talking again, rambling a little.

“Like, uh, we’re kind of…I’ve been seeing him a lot. He’s really nice, and I just thought maybe, I don’t know, since he’s one of yours, sort of, like, if…I dunno.” Wally finished, uselessly.  Great, now he _definitely_ sounded like an idiot.

The other man didn’t respond and Wally didn’t trust himself to say anything more, gazed fixed at a spot on the table in front of him.

“You should steer clear of him.”

It took Wally a moment to register the low words, snapping his head up and meeting the other man’s narrowed gaze. At some point, while Wally had been distracted with his thoughts, the other had turned around. Batman’s lips were pressed in a thin line, his eyes narrowed through the cowl.

Wally’s blush faded, replaced with something akin to hurt – or defensiveness.

“He seems like a good guy,” Wally pointed out, frowning a little.

“Most people do. You should not trust him.” Batman sounded cold, distant, and Wally felt deeply unsettled. Did Bruce Wayne have a dark side that Wally didn’t know about?

“I’m going to need a bit more to go off on,” Wally said, after a moment, unable to keep the petulant tone from his words. He wasn't just going to write off the guy he liked because  _Batman_ didn't trust him. Batman trusted  _no one_ anyway.

The other man simply stared at him, gaze hardening somewhat, and Wally felt as though the other was staring right into his thoughts.

“That’s all I have to say on the matter,” Batman stated, tone clipped, and then turned to face the monitors once more.

Right.

“Uh. ‘Kay,” Wally supplied, now rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah. Trying to talk to Batman had _definitely_ been a bad idea. “Um, I’m gonna grab something to eat. Do you want anything?”

The other shook his head, not bothering to look at Wally as he got to his feet.

Wally sighed a little, running his hand over his face, before exiting the room.

Well, _that_ had been something.

* * *

It’s only once Wally had left, that Bruce’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped his face into his hands. He cursed himself under his breath. He couldn’t even understand himself, the reasoning behind his words, behind his actions.

More than that, he was realizing, now more than ever, that he needed to start actively distancing himself from Wally. As Bruce. Or, rather, find out some way to stop avoiding the issue altogether, and just tell Wally before the speedster found out on his own.

Because regardless of his intentions –

But they were _getting somewhere_. Wally was beginning to _trust_ Bruce, even supplied Bruce with enough information to look into Wally’s condition, discussing the excessive sleep, the exhaustion. It was in Wally’s best interest that he opened up to someone – and who better than someone who had access to all the resources necessary?

Resolved, Bruce settled to keep it under wraps until he pieced together some kind of explanation or diagnosis for Wally’s exhaustion. And then, he would tell Wally the truth. And it would make sense, somehow, and it would be justified, and –

Or, he told Wally now. He told Wally now, when the speedster returned, and –

But he couldn’t shake the openness, the easiness, the warmth in those green eyes when Wally looked at him _as_ Bruce. And – amidst it all – affection that ran far deeper than Bruce had ever intended.

Affection that, he was coming to realize, was bordering _mutual_.

And he didn’t even know where to begin with that information.

When Wally returned, Bruce settled to shoot the other glances in the reflection of the monitor, while the speedster refrained from attempting to converse with him again. There was simultaneously relief and resignation at Wally's lack of pursuing a conversation, and Bruce resolved not to say anything.

He took note, however, of the amount of times Wally yawned, shifted restlessly, and finally propped his head up on his arm, staring at his phone.

And then, Bruce realized that it didn’t matter what the state of their relationship would be at the end of all this, as friends or as teammates, because it was the state of Wally’s health that he prioritized above all else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're as frustrated with Bruce as I am. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think.


	10. So far out of his league. Heh, league. Get it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally and Bruce get heated in the best and worst of ways. Neither of them know what they're doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter definitely got away from me. It's also ridiculously long, and I don't know how I feel about it, so let me know how you feel! I'm posting it before I go back and read it all over again and delete half of it.

Bruce was in his apartment. Bruce Wayne was in his _apartment_.

Batman was going to be _so_ pissed.

“Uh, want something to drink?” Wally offered, after Bruce had stepped in, hovering by the door. The other man was scanning his apartment, those blue eyes dragging over every surface, and Wally felt somewhat self conscious. He’d done what he could to clean up the best he could – except, not too much, so there were items strategically placed across the apartment.

The Flash paraphernalia had to go, though. And despite his best ability to clean up, there was something very vulnerable, exposing, of having the billionaire inside his home. Almost unsettling, but also, exhilarating.

“Some water. The itinerary for the gallery requires us to be there in about an hour, so we have some time,” Bruce said, and Wally nodded, resisting the urge to zip back into his bedroom and finish dressing. It was difficult to keep his speed in check in his _home_ , but it was probably for the best.

After all, the more he used his speed, lately, the more _spent_ he felt. Something that was only mildly concerning – after all, he was probably in a physical slump. It would pass, as most things often did.

He hadn’t intended on inviting the other man upstairs, by no means. But by the 47th time he’d changed his attire, only really trying on different combinations of the very few clothing items he had, Bruce had buzzed up, from the lobby. Wally had, for a moment, considered leaving the other man in the lobby, but invited him up in the end.

It hadn’t been enough that the tabloids had caught onto Bruce Wayne’s new flavor of the week, headlines causing Wally to _cringe_ : _Who’s the redhead Bruce Wayne took out for dinner? Caught eating breakfast in Central! Potential Lovebirds, Perusing Central Museum! Who’s the lucky redhead?!_

He’d thought, for sure, that Bruce wouldn’t attempt to contact him again. He’d been _wrong_.

Wally didn’t know what it was that had compelled him to invite the other man into his apartment, but he had, and somehow, the other’s mere presence made his apartment look even _smaller_. But Bruce had insisted on picking Wally up to take them to a gallery for an exhibition, mentioning something about keeping up appearances, being Bruce Wayne – arriving with dates, and all that.

He’d made a relatively decent case. Sort of. Wally had kind of ignored most of what Bruce had said after he heard the word ‘date’.

In hindsight, Wally considered again how furious Batman would be if he were to ever find out.

“You have a nice place,” Bruce commented, interrupting Wally’s thoughts, and Wally came back to himself. He realized that he’d simply been standing there while Bruce regarded his apartment. Then he realized that a significant amount of time had not passed, and it had likely only been mere seconds.

“Uh, thanks. You can take a seat,” Wally said, gesturing over at the couch and then rubbing his neck. He realized that at human speed, his current state of dress looked like he needed about ten more minutes. His hair was windswept from speeding around cleaning, changing, and his lopsided tie, or attempt at a tie, was hanging from his neck, utterly unkempt. “I still gotta finish up,” he added, hurriedly.

Bruce appeared to have noticed, stepping forward and crossing the distance between them in two long strides. Wally remained rooted where he stood, eyes widening only a fraction in surprise – and then, Bruce was just _so close_.

Wally could have – probably should have – pulled away when Bruce reached for the tie around his neck, tugging gently and stepping _even closer_. Wally settled for tensing, not moving, frozen– not only by Bruce’s long fingers adeptly crossing over and maneuvering the fabric of his tie – but rather by the intent expression the other man wore as he did so.

Time slowed down, somehow. Bruce’s eyebrows were furrowed and Wally flit his gaze from those hands and those focused blue eyes, aware of their proximity, the scent of Bruce’s aftershave, the slightest twitch of those soft pink lips, the soft exhale and inhale with which Bruce’s shoulders moved, and Wally forgot to breathe, somehow riveted.

“There,” Bruce murmured, and he was so close that Wally felt the puff of air as the other spoke graze his own lips, graze his neck. Wally glanced up, and Bruce was still there, gently flattening Wally’s tie against his shirt, smoothing it out over his half-ironed dress shirt.

Bruce’s touch lingered, and the tension in the air was palpable.

And then Bruce was stepping back, regarding Wally with a cocked head, a slight smile.

“You clean up well, Wally West.” Bruce announced, warmly, something soft and gentle present in those blue eyes. Wally blushed visibly at the compliment, finding himself fiddling with his sleeve.

“Thanks, I guess. Gotta be, if I’m gonna be goin’ places with you, right?” Wally grinned a little, shrugging, and Bruce chuckled at that, softly, lowly.

“I should take you shopping, sometime.” Bruce supplied, eyes glittering with amusement, and Wally quickly shook his head. Oh, that would be a _disaster_. He didn’t need more headlines. He liked the quiet life he lived as Wally West, and preferred to leave the…flashy aspect of his life, to Flash.

“You really don’t have to,” Wally said quickly, still aware of the electricity in the air, and then took a step back. “I’ll finish up and be right out.”

Bruce nodded slowly, and then glanced at the couch before walking past Wally to take a seat. Wally quickly ran a hand over his face, trying to collect himself, before walking – at a humanly normal pace – back to his bedroom.

His hair refused to stay flat, and it didn’t help that his heart was _pounding_ in his ears. He had no idea what was going on between him and the billionaire, except that he couldn’t seem to follow it in the slightest.

After a ridiculous amount of water and hair spray, Wally stepped back out, opened his mouth to announce that he was ready, only to find that the other man had, somehow still sitting up straight, fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, and his head hung forward slightly, but there was no other indication that he was asleep.

Except for the fact that he didn’t look up. Wally approached the other man, tentatively, moved to stand in front of him. Huh. Weird.

He was sitting perfectly straight, hands folded over his lap, but his eyes were shut. What kind of life did the dude live that he could manage to fall asleep in the most uncomfortable position?

More than that, what kind of life did Bruce live that he made it a habit to fall _asleep_ in two minutes. But Wally knew that – knew the kind of life that required someone to take a nap at any given moment, any opportunity to rest his eyes.

Wally moved to take a seat next to the billionaire, but the moment he sank down on the couch, Bruce tensed, visibly, eyes flying open. His expression didn’t change, and if Wally hadn’t been paying such close attention, he likely wouldn’t have noticed the way Bruce’s entire _frame_ appeared to tighten.

It lasted possibly a fraction of a second, and if Wally wasn’t a speedster, he likely wouldn’t have noticed. He opened his mouth to ask if the other was okay, but then Bruce was yawning, relaxing, pressing his palm to his lips and then twisting to look at Wally.

“Huh, it appears I nodded off.” Bruce got to his feet, leaving Wally to remain sitting and giving the speedster an easy smile. “You look good. Shall we go?”

“Maybe we should cancel, if you’re tired,” Wally offered, getting to his feet anyway. He sounded uncertain, realizing that there were layers to Bruce Wayne that he didn’t quite expect.

Bruce looked surprised at Wally’s words, and Wally realized he may have overstepped slightly.

“No, it’s nothing. I just didn’t sleep that well. I had an event to go to, last night.” Wally nodded at the explanation, frowning a little and then rubbed the back of his neck.

“You can probably afford to take _one_ night off,” Wally supplied, uncertainly. “No one’s gonna mind,” Wally added, surprised that – for once – he was being the voice of reason.

Bruce merely blinked at Wally, and Wally found his gaze straying, scanning Bruce’s face, reminded of when Bruce had fallen down the stairs. He thought back to the initial amusement he’d felt, and now replaced it with concern. Maybe Bruce wasn’t sleeping well. Sleep deprivation caused accidents. Maybe there _was_ more than met the eye.

“I’m fine, Wally,” Bruce coaxed, smiling at Wally warmly, like Wally was making a big deal out of nothing but it was _endearing_ some how. “Alfred’s waiting downstairs. Let’s go.”

* * *

The end of the night found Wally, leaning against the railing of a balcony, staring up at the night sky, illuminated by Gotham’s night pollution, void of star visibility. He felt a little out of sorts, with no words to put to his emotions.

He’d lost Bruce to a beautiful woman in a green dress and long flowing hair, moments prior, and it hadn’t been the first time that night. The drive to the gallery had been seamless, Bruce prodding about Wally’s day and friends, making gentle conversation and all the while looking at Wally like he was the only person in the world.

And then they’d arrived, and Wally had to – yet again – face the reality of Bruce’s almost celebrity status. Lights had flashed when they’d exited the limo, and Bruce had worn a brilliant smile, while Wally kind of ducked behind Bruce.

When they’d entered the gallery itself, everything had been fine. He’d gotten a couple curious glances, but whilst remaining at Bruce’s side, people had been respectful, giving him clipped smiles and attempting slight conversation alongside Bruce.

And then, Bruce had been drawn away, and the gazes had been more piercing, more curious. He’d been asked a couple times, for his name, and Wally had sort of laughed, ducked, and headed for appetizer table. That was the best part of these rich people events – they had long tables stuffed with food.

He wasn’t comfortable with giving out his name – not when he didn’t know how permanent whatever it was he was doing with Bruce Wayne was. Bruce Wayne, who appeared to have forgotten all about Wally, surrounded by beautiful women and sharp suits, leaving Wally and his own attempt to dress up as completely inadequate.

He’d been wrong to come. He’d been wrong to entertain _this_. It was like he was some kind of – _pet_. Except, that wasn’t it, and he knew it wasn’t, but it was hard to keep the perpetual inadequacy at bay when Bruce was surrounded, and the other man had just seen his apartment, and what was he even _doing_ here?

But at one point, during the night, Bruce had tensed, from where Wally had been watching him, surrounded, suddenly scanning the room, alert, and Wally frowned – until those blue eyes, from across the room, met his own. And Bruce visibly relaxed, offered Wally a smile that was reserved only for him, not too bright and not too confident, before Wally nodded, and gave a little wave.

But now, Wally was tired, and Bruce was busy, and Wally was acutely aware that he didn’t belong here, or with the other man.

“Looks like you’ve been left behind.” Wow, apparently, the voice in his head had become audible, Wally mused, still staring up at the sky. And then he heard footsteps, and Wally turned to regard a tall man in a dark blue suit, raking his gaze over Wally almost disapprovingly.

“Uh,” Wally responded, simply staring at him. Great. Just what he needed. Some tool in a suit.  

He was never going to _not_ listen to Batman again.

“He does this, you know,” The other man said nursing a glass of some kind of liquor no doubt, moving to stand next to Wally, and instead of looking up, gazing down at the rest of the city around them. “Gets bored, picks up someone, fawns over them for about a week, and then moves on to the next one. Though, you certainly don’t fit his usual criteria.”

Wally turned to look at the other guy, frowning a bit and biting back a retort. The last thing he needed to do was draw more attention to himself than he already had.

“He usually likes them blond. With more…substance.” Alright, so the guy was clearly trying to get a response out of him.

Wally _hated_ rich people. Wally looked back at the city, wishing he was back in Central, now biting the inside of his lower lip.

“We’re just friends,” Wally said after a moment, in a small voice, suddenly feeling more tired than he had all day.

“Bruce Wayne doesn’t have friends,” the other informed him, sounding arrogant, and Wally realized he didn’t have the energy to continue this conversation.

“I’m offended, Sylvester,” came a low, terse voice, from behind the pair of them and Wally felt a rush of both relief and resentment at Bruce’s presence.

“I’m just telling the kid what he needs to know, Wayne,” the other said, turning around and Wally didn’t bother moving, just staring out at the city.

He was out of his element in a way he’d never expected to be. And so _tired_.

“You know, I’ve been hearing quite a few things about your off-shore business,” and there was a tone of warning in Bruce’s voice that sounded familiar, though in retrospect, the billionaire had never taken that tone with him.

“Go to hell, Wayne,” responded Douchebag from next to him, tone suddenly hostile, and Wally watched him leave in his peripheral. Replaced by Bruce, leaning back against the railing, resting his arm atop the bar and angling his head to regard Wally.

Wally folded his arms over the top of the railing, reminding himself _not_ to be a sulky brat. It didn’t help that the exhaustion was making him feel cranky.

“Hey.” Bruce’s voice had changed, almost soft.

“Hey,” Wally mumbled, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his arms, not turning to look at the other man who had his back to the city, back to the sky. Probably telling of something. Probably wasn’t.

“Don’t listen to Sylvester. He’s too drunk half the time, to make sense,” Bruce offered, in that same gentle tone.

Wally grunted, in response, knowing the other man meant to placate him. But Bruce had dragged him to this event, paraded him around for all but 10 minutes, before leaving Wally to fend for himself for most of the entirety of the event, surrounded by who appeared to be vultures and reporters.

Ducking and hiding and trying to keep his name out of the wind.

On that note…

“You didn’t tell them my name, did you?” Wally raised his head, his tone accusing, turning his head to finally look at Bruce, who’s expression he could barely read due to poor lighting. Though, he’s not sure he _could_ read Bruce’s expression, even in good lighting.

Bruce looked surprised at Wally’s questions, before nodding slowly. “I didn’t, but not because I knew you didn’t want that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Ah, at least no damage done. Wally shrugged, looking away and resting his chin back on his arms.

“Uh, I think I’m gonna go soon. I’ll call a cab; you don’t have to worry.”

He realized he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t likely ever going to see Bruce again. Whatever he’d thought was transpiring between them, he’d been wrong. Bruce operated in a completely different _world_ , and Wally had no place there. Wally had no place here. Bruce had no place for him, no  _space_ for him.

Wally had no place in Gotham, under any context, apparently. Batman was probably watching him from some rooftop disapprovingly.

Bruce straightened up a bit, pushing off the railing and Wally felt him staring at him.

“I can take you home,” Bruce offered, injury in his tone, and Wally almost felt bad.

“Nah, looks to me like you’re pretty busy.”

And then there was a hand grasping his elbow, gently tugging Wally from the railing. The speedster straightened up, following the other man’s touch, despite knowing he could pull away at any given moment. He turned to face Bruce, and then pulled his elbow away, shaking the other man’s touch off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Bruce’s voice was soft, warm, and Wally felt completely undeserving of it. And he was so _tired_ , suddenly. It was like his body was shutting off, his brain included. And then, to his horror, Wally felt his eyes _burning_.

“Yeah, no, I just, I’m tired, and,” Wally sniffed and then quickly ran his sleeve over his eyes, rubbing at them. “It’s been a long night, Bruce,” he finally said, lowering his arm and staring instead, at his shoes.

“I’ll take you home,” Bruce resolved, and then the other man took Wally’s hand in his own, before pulling him from the balcony, and briskly walking back through the building. 

Wally wanted to pull away, but Bruce’s grasp was firm, solid, and somehow – Wally almost felt better.

* * *

 “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time,” Bruce said, apologizing for what appeared to be the fourth time in the ride back to his apartment. Wally was sitting further from Bruce than he had before, just resting his forehead against the glass.

“No, it was fine,” Wally supplied, lying. He felt like a dramatic brat, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to be one.

Seeing Bruce, in his _element_ , surrounded by people fawning over him, flashing smiles and writing cheques and carelessly kissing the hands of other women – seeing Bruce, so handsome and completely out of his _league_  – tonight – had made him realize of just how silly he’d been in entertaining the mere _concept_ of having something more.

“You’re upset, Wally,” Bruce said, and Wally felt those blue eyes on him.

“I’m _tired_ ,” Wally responded, stressing his words a little, and trying not to sound annoyed.

They fell into a silence that lasted until they pulled up by Wally’s apartment in Central, and Wally fiddled with the seatbelt, only to have Bruce’s hand placed over his.

Having no choice but to, Wally looked up at Bruce, who was looking at him intently, his face shadowed and gaze earnest. Wally pulled his hand from out under Bruce’s grasp, and the other frowned a little, before unclasping Wally’s belt.

Wally opened the door and pulled away, stepping out and closing the door behind him. He turned back towards the door, feeling ungrateful and bratty and _tired_ , and the sound of another car door closing, notified him that Bruce had exited. He pulled out his keys, and in his frustrated daze, the keys fell from his fingers, clattering to the ground.

And then Bruce was there, picking up his keys, as Wally watched. God, what was _wrong_ with him?

“Uh, thanks,” Wally said, dully, taking the keys offered to him and turning around to open the door to the lobby.

“Hey,” Bruce started, following Wally into the lobby, sounding confused and uncertain, and Wally just wanted to go upstairs and sleep and not have to think for a bit. He had work in the morning, and monitor duty in the evening, and he didn’t have _time_ to be Bruce Wayne’s little _plaything_.

“I kinda just wanna go to bed, Bruce,” Wally said, pressing the button to the elevator, aware of Bruce’s presence.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, in that gentle, concerned voice that made Wally want to burst into tears for inconceivable reasons.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” the words were out of Wally’s lips before he even remembered _thinking_ them. And he kept his gaze on the button of the elevator, continuing to press it repeatedly.

Bruce didn’t respond, didn’t even give Wally indication of having heard him. And then-

“What did I do?” Bruce honestly sounded confused, and Wally pulled his hand away from the button, clenching his hand to a fist. Because really, Bruce hadn’t actually done _anything_. He’d been nothing but charming. And it hadn’t been _jealousy_ he’d been experiencing. It’d been something else, something he’d yet to define.

Because their friendship – and that’s what it _was_ – didn’t actually require dismissal. Not really. He was overreacting.

“Wally?” Bruce sounded so earnest, so confused, and Wally sighed, turning around to face Bruce. Who looked so worried that Wally almost felt  _guilty_.

Wally decided that it was time to ask the question he’d been wondering since day one.

“What are you doin’, man?” Wally asked, letting the exhaustion slip into his tone. “What do you want from me?” Wally rubbed the back of his neck, tearing his gaze away from Bruce’s face, hearing the ding of the elevator opening behind him. “And don’t give me that crap about wanting to get to know me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Wally wondered if he should have just gotten on the elevator that proceeded to close, once more.

He looked back at Bruce, who’s expression was almost closed off, conflicted. The other man didn’t even have an _answer_. And Wally was somehow even _more_ disappointed than he’d already been, but only now, also _angry_. So he _had_ just been a source of passing the time.

 _Playboy billionaire, Bruce Wayne, flavor of the week: Wally West, some broke kid from Central City._ Or maybe Bruce had been trying to _save_ him, even better. A charity case.

“I don’t want anything from you, Wally,” Bruce responded, long after Wally had decided that he wouldn’t, that they would forever be doomed to staring at one another in the lobby of his apartment.

“Right,” Wally deadpanned. Bruce took a step forward, and Wally resisted the urge to step back.

“I’m serious,” Bruce said, the intonation of his voice changing somehow, and Wally looked up at Bruce, took note of the other man’s eyelashes.

“I don’t think you know what that means,” Wally heard himself saying, echoing the sentiments of Douchebag from the gallery. There was a glimmer of hurt in Bruce’s eyes, and Wally couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I am, Wally. I’m serious. About _you_.” And before Wally could properly process those words, there was an index finger tilting his head up and then soft lips, pressed firmly to his own.

They were kissing. They were kissing, and Wally’s lips parted in surprise, only to welcome Bruce’s tongue, and Wally almost couldn’t _breathe_ , as Bruce stepped even closer, kissing him softly, gently, _deeply_. It was everything he wanted and nothing he'd expected and so much more than anything he'd ever needed.

And then Wally threw up his hands, shoving at Bruce’s chest and stumbling back into the closed elevator doors, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“What are you doing!?” Wally half-yelled, his voice higher than he’d have liked, heart thumping in his ears, and his pants uncomfortably tight.

Bruce looked surprised himself, those blue eyes wide, pupils dilated, lips parted, and his expression one of panic – _alarm_.

“I…”

“I’m not some…thing! For you to parade around and make out with!” Wally blurted out, the words that had been running through his mind most of the night – and since he’d met the other man. “I’m a human being! You can’t just – buy me, with food, and food – I - I have feelings!”

He sounded like an idiot, was what he sounded like. Wally didn’t care, realizing that he was visibly shaking, that his vision was blurry, and the more energy he spent, the more _tired_ he felt. Damn rich people and their stupid _entitle_ ment.

Batman had been _right_.

“I have feelings too,” Bruce said, in a distant voice, almost hollowly. Wally tried to forget the way Bruce’s lips had felt on his, tried to ignore the twist of guilt in his stomach.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Wally shot back, his hand feeling around the wall next to him, pressing at the elevator button again, jabbing at it. “You don’t even really see me as a person, do you?”

The words left his lips and Wally realized, he was projecting internalized thoughts onto Bruce that weren’t exactly being _given_ to him by Bruce. He was lashing out at Bruce who’d been nothing but nice, and kind, and flirtatious, and Wally had flirted back, because Wally _liked_ him, and it wasn't _Bruce_ that Wally was mad at, not  _really_  –

“I do, Wally. I think-“

“I really like you!” Wally snapped, cutting off the other man, and his eyes continued to burn. “I really like you, but I don’t think you even really know me, let alone care about me. And I don’t like being in the tabloids! I don’t want to be branded as Bruce Wayne’s flavor of the week, discarded for the next blonde that comes by – who you also probably won’t care about!”

Bruce looked completely taken aback by Wally’s words, hurt and dismayed. Wally regretted everything he said the moment he said it, but it was too late to take them back and Wally sighed, sagging a little, leaning against the closed elevator doors.

“I like you too, Wally. I’m serious about you.” Bruce said, in a soft voice, and then paused, keeping their distance intact, but searching Wally’s gaze. Wally’s heart thudded, skipping a beat, as Bruce’s gaze intensified. “I have feelings for you, and you’re right, I don’t know enough about you, but I know that I want to.” And then, Bruce looked even _more_ apologetic, almost pained. “But…I’m sorry for bringing you into something you didn’t want to be part of. I wasn’t careful and it was irresponsible. I can get the tabloids under wraps and delete everything about you, if that’s what you need.” Bruce said, and his tone was resigned. Wally was feeling smaller and smaller by the moment. “But I _do_ care about those women I spend my time with. I care about each and every one of them. And I care about _you_. _”_

Wally simply stared at the other man. Bruce _liked_ him. And _meant_ it. He  _meant_ it. Those eyes weren't lying to him.

The elevator opened again and Wally nearly fell, stumbling to catch himself and noticed the step Bruce had taken forward, almost reaching for him, reflexively. He needed to  _go_.

“I need…to get some sleep. And think about this,” Wally finally said, raising his gaze to meet Bruce’s own earnest one, while holding the elevator door open. Part of him wanted to throw caution to the wind, invite Bruce up into his apartment, where they could make out some more. Most of him, however, kind of just wanted to sleep and not think about this for a bit.

“Okay,” Bruce said, his tone almost resigned, almost detached.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll call you, okay?” Wally heard himself say, trying to offer some kind of olive branch. Bruce gave Wally a look that he couldn’t quite discern, before offering the slightest of nods and then, it was Wally who watched as Bruce turned around and walked away.

Bruce didn’t even throw a glance over his shoulder at him, before he got into the limo.

Sudden beeping from the elevator jarred Wally out of his thoughts, and he let go of the door, stepping in and letting them close.

 _Hopefully,_  all he really did need was sleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Eiswolfzero for being an absolute delight.


	11. Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The League is noticing Batman freezing Flash out of missions, Wally is pining, and Bruce digging a damn hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to all of you reading, and your patience. Second of all, a shoutout to tumblr users eiswolfzero and paracosmosey who have drawn brilliant fanart for this fic thus far. I'm so appreciative (I show all my friends on my phone). Third of all, this chapter was written spread out through the span of a few months, and I haven't really gone through and read it all before I posted - so I hope that it's coherent and, at the very least, well paced. I hope you enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think <3.

“In and out,” crackled Batman’s voice in Wally’s communicator, and Wally was quick, as he always was, to roll his eyes.

“I _know_ ,” he shot back, only to have J’onn cut in, alleviating some of the annoyance.

“Flash, do you see it?” Wally skidded to a stop inside the warehouse, scanning his surroundings. The wallpaper was peeling, and it smelled of something musky, probably mold. Wally tried not to think too hard about that, before he started to speed through the building.

“Not yet!” And then – as he entered one room – the sound of a crash, glass breaking.

Damn. They’d said the building was _empty_. _Batman_ had said the building was empty.

“Not alone, guys!” Wally shouted, quickly maneuvering to disarm his newfound assailants, dodging bullets. It’d been some time since he’d been caught in cross fire – his latest missions centering on retrieval and recon, though he wasn’t complaining. It felt a bit as though he’d been benched, in his own way, but Wally lacked the energy to complain.

“Do you need assistance?” Superman asked, and Wally found that his annoyance was more linked to Batman, than the other members. Perhaps it was because Wally knew that they _respected_ him – or at least, considered him competent, capable.

Wally also, heard enough in the background of the everyone’s communication that assistance wasn’t really a viable option. After all, they all had their own roles, and this was his. Retrieve the device, in record time, and take it back to Bats to disarm and infiltrate. Simple.

“I’m good!” Wally responded, narrowly avoiding another bullet and ignoring the creeping fatigue that had seemed to so familiarly acquaint itself with his body.

“Flash,” and there was Batman, of course, sounding _wary_. “Rerouting to you, now.”

Right, of course Wally couldn’t handle a _simple_ task.

“I’m on my way to him,” came Shayera’s voice, and Wally welcomed her voice and assistance more than he’d welcome Batman’s _any_ day.

“I’m fine, guys,” Wally called out, as the last enemy fell unconscious with a swift knock to the head. See? He _had_ this under control. “I got this.”

“Don’t try to be a hero,” Batman warned, effectively striking a nerve, as Wally’s fingers curled over the device he’d come for.

“Don’t have to try, Bats,” Wally shot back, exiting the building and keeping the sting from his voice. “I’m out.”

Batman didn’t respond and Wally found that he didn’t expect him to.

* * *

“What are you doing?” came Clark’s voice from behind Bruce. He didn’t respond, fingers adeptly tapping the keys, his eyes fixed on the screen.

“Batman,” Clark said, taking a step forward, and Bruce resisted the urge to sigh.

“Disarming the shields.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Clark responded, testily.

“I’ll upgrade the system in a moment,” Bruce added, tone mild.

“Bruce,” Clark started, and Bruce shot his friend a hard glare at the use of his name.

“ _Names_ ,” he snapped, _warned_ , for reasons beyond the usual, reasons centering a certain speedster that Bruce had been _tracking_.

Clark’s expression softened, and Bruce returned his attention to the screen.

“You think the rest of us haven’t noticed? Why is Wally running errands, instead of in the heat of the battle – where he _belongs_?” And there was the concern that made Clark an effective leader, the awareness, the perception.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“What aren’t you telling us, Batman?” Clark pressed, taking a step forward, dropping a hand – _heavy_ – on his shoulder.

Bruce jerked away from the kryptonian’s touch, eyes narrowed as he got to his feet, drawing away.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“It’s all of our concerns,” and there was _heat_ in Clark’s tone now. Bruce knew it well. “It’s Bruce _Wayne_ ’s concern, apparently.”

“I’ll tell you when I have all the information,” Bruce responded, his tone unfazed by Clark’s words. The other wouldn’t shake him.

Bruce exited the room without another glance at his friend, well aware that the conversation wasn’t over.

* * *

Bruce hadn’t attempted to contact Wally since that day in the lobby. It had been _two weeks_. At this point, Wally had fallen back into routine – work supplying him with income, and the League as well as Central City, keeping him busy.

Except for right now. Wally was lying on his floor, yawning as he stared up at the ceiling.

Two weeks. Two weeks of checking his phone, of trying to forget and trying to remember Bruce’s lips against his.

Two weeks of Wally trying to distract himself from those lips, while trying to distract himself from the way the League had been treating him – damn _Batman_ for having sent out some kind of memo.

Two weeks of Wally following the information scattering the internet of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, and his exploits – his _new_ blonde exploits, and no mention of his name present in any of it. He was forgotten. Maybe he was always meant to be forgotten.

Two weeks of Wally processing, wondering, if Bruce _had_ forgotten him the way media had.

Two weeks of _missing_ him.

Two weeks of running, _running_ , trying not to let his emotions catch up to him. Trying not to let his _exhaustion_ catch up to him.

Two weeks, for them to crash into Wally – finding him on the floor of his apartment. Two weeks, and Wally’s fingers were dialing those numbers he’d still yet to register onto his phone, numbers that he’d managed to memorize, before bringing the phone to his ear.

It rang twice, before the other man picked up, and Wally almost hung up right then and there.

“Wayne,” came that all too familiar voice.

Wally, for some reason, hadn’t expected Bruce to pick up. Had decided, perhaps, for both of them, that it was over. That he was clinging onto something that wasn’t there, that never had been –

“Uh, hi.” Wally managed, realizing his fingers were clammy. “It’s, uh, me. Wally.”

A moment’s pause, and then some shuffling, and Wally remained on the floor, grateful for it. He watched, instead, as the wall and the ceiling lit up with an orange hue, evidence of the sun setting through the window.

“Hey,” came Bruce’s voice, still a little distant, but the sounds in the background had quieted significantly.

“Is this a bad time?” Wally asked, pressing the phone closer to his ear, trying to press _Bruce_ closer, perhaps, and closing his eyes.

“No,” was the immediate response. Still distant, borderline cold, and Wally regretted having called. Wally realized he hadn’t actually prepared to say anything, hadn’t actually prepared to _speak_ to the other man.

“Uh, how’ve you been?” Wally tried, feeling as though the floor was giving way beneath him, or maybe he was melting.

“Busy,” was Bruce’s answer, cut, dry, short.

This was the part where Wally hung up, wasn’t it? So why was it that he couldn’t? His eyes burned, despite the fact that they were closed.

Wally let the memory of Bruce’s lips on his own, once more flood his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Wally half croaked, resisting the urge to hang up. He needed this. He needed closure. Needed to know that the billionaire wanted nothing to do with him.

He heard a voice in the background, a woman’s voice, but indescribable. God, was he _crying_? This was stupid.

“I’ve missed you,” and the words left Wally’s mouth before he was aware he’d even said them. His face flushed with warmth and _pain_ , and oh – oh, he _had_. He’d missed Bruce so much. He missed Bruce, right then, and right there.

There’s a moment of silence, which provided Wally with enough time to regret having said those words at all.

Except, if this was what it came down to, then Bruce deserved to know. He deserved to know that he’d been _more_ to Wally, more than Wally ever had been to him. God, he was _tired_.

And then –

“I’ve missed you too,” came the response, softer, warmer, and somehow that warmth flooded into Wally’s veins, coaxing, tender.

Wally tried to picture Bruce, standing in front of him, saying those exact words. His lips still parted, from when Wally had shoved him back and – what if he hadn’t? What if he _hadn’t_ –

Instead of an articulate response, Wally took a shaky breath, well aware that there were tears rolling down his cheeks, hot and unwelcome, and his breath sounded strangely akin to a sob. God, since when did he become such a _crier_?

“Wally?” Bruce’s voice was suddenly laced with alarm, and he sounded closer. The background noise had melted away, and Wally didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I’m so _tired_ ,” Wally heard himself say, his voice breaking as he confessed the only thing that could even come _close_ to what he was feeling.

“Are you okay?” And Bruce sounded alert now, concerned and it was everything Wally _knew_ he didn’t deserve.

“I-I gotta go,” Wally managed, pushing himself to sit up and not waiting for the billionaire to respond, fumbling with the phone and hanging up.

He couldn’t even feel embarrassed, too caught up in his tears as he drew his knees to his chest, wrapped an arm around them, and buried his face into his knees.

The phone, abandoned on the floor next to him, started ringing and Wally didn’t have it in him to pick up.

* * *

“Darling, you haven’t even touched your dinner,” Charlotte chided, and Bruce glanced at the other woman with a slight smile. She was a reporter, stunning, resourceful, intelligent, and Bruce – were it any other day – would have gladly sat back down.

Except something was wrong with a certain redheaded speedster who wasn’t picking up his damn phone.

“It’s business,” Bruce said, leaning over to brush his lips over her own, before pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?” He offered, and she laughed, nodding.

God, she was beautiful. But her blue eyes didn’t compare to the green eyes vivid in his thoughts, and Bruce recalled the hitch in Wally’s words, in his breath, the sound of _tears_ in his voice.

Bruce left, keeping the concern tightly wound around his veins at bay.

* * *

Wally ended up on his side, still on the floor, curled up – and it was in that position that he woke to the sound of knocking. Wally blinked, staring at the phone on the floor in front of him, before moving to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. Did he _seriously_ cry himself to sleep on the floor? Kind of dramatic, even for _him_.

Wally got to his feet, yawning and realizing he could attribute the fact that he fell asleep on the floor to the fact that his body had simply been so _tired_ as of late. It’s only as he approached the door, the knocks getting more insistent, did he hear the voice accompanying it –

And came to a complete stop.

And then he sped to the door, twisting the lock and throwing the door open, eyes wide –

Bruce’s hand was still raised, poised to continue knocking, and when the door flew open, the other man stumbled forward a bit, catching Wally off guard.

Wally was still caught off guard when those arms wrapped around him, and then Wally was breathing in the smell of expensive aftershave and cologne and laundry detergent, his face pressed into the other man’s collar.

Wally let himself be hugged, not quite returning the action himself, mostly because his own arms were pinned to his sides by Bruce’s arms.

“God, I was worried,” came the other man’s voice, thick with some kind of emotion and a little hoarse. Wally blinked, swallowing and then cleared his throat, shifting a bit to attempt to pat the other’s back.

“Uh, sorry, I’m fine,” he attempted, his voice muffled by the fabric in his face, leaning back a bit. “I fell asleep.”  

The arms around him loosened, and then fell away, and Wally was greeted by blue eyes meeting his gaze more transparent than he’d ever seen them before. He cleared his throat again, hand automatically reaching to rub at the back of his head, feeling a little embarrassed.

Right, he had called Bruce, cried a little, and hung up. Pathetic, in hindsight, and Wally tried not to think too hard about it. Clearly he’d made the other concerned enough to _rush_ over in a panic, and for what? Not much, really.

And then, calloused fingers – awfully rough for the hands of a billionaire – were brushing along his face, fingertips dusting over his temple and then grazing his cheek. Wally hadn’t realized that his gaze had travelled away, fixed to a spot over Bruce’s shoulder, but he found himself drawn back, now, to those blue eyes that were flitting over his expression.

“You’re warm,” Bruce commented, and his hand fell away from Wally’s face – and Wally resisted the urge to take it back, resisted the urge to protest the loss of contact.

“Uh, yeah, I’m usually pretty, uh, warm,” Wally said, sounding just as disarmed as he felt. “I’m sorry for, uh, worrying you. I just-“

“You said you were tired,” Bruce said, his tone still warm but still, somehow, dismissive in a way that was all too familiar. Wally couldn’t place it, and then it was over – his hand being taken by those calloused fingers once more, and Wally allowed himself to be led over to his couch.

“Sit,” Bruce ordered, and Wally, once more, found himself placed with déjà vu. He listened regardless and took a seat, sinking back into the worn out cushions and leaning back against the couch a bit. He tilted his head, falling back against the top of the couch, eyes fixed on the other man who’d now made his way over into Wally’s kitchen.

“I shouldn’t have called,” Wally thought, aloud, his words intended as an apology and the regret in his tone.

“Hm,” Bruce responded, though it wasn’t much of a response, and Wally rubbed at his face before frowning as Bruce opened up a couple more cabinets and shut them.

“You’re lacking in provisions,” Bruce commented, just as Wally asked,

“What are you looking for?”

Bruce looked over at him, his expression softening slightly when their gazes met.

“I was going to make you tea. But you don’t appear to have any.”

A moment of silence as Wally considered the implications of Bruce Wayne wanting to make him _tea_.

“…I think you should probably go,” Wally tried, pushing himself to get back to his feet. He was still tired, but could attribute some of it to emotional exhaustion at this point – and whatever else was going on with him, of course.

“You should sit back down,” and Bruce’s words were firm, which only served to irritate Wally a little. Who did Bruce Wayne even _think_ he was? Ordering him around, in his own house?

“Don’t you have someone to get back to?” Wally let the defiance slip into his voice, as he walked over to the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest. The words that left his mouth reached his ears, and he tried not to think about how he sounded like a jealous, scorned, lover.

“I do,” Bruce said simply, no longer looking at Wally, but instead, at his empty fridge. “You have no food. What have you been eating?”

Wally bit his tongue to keep from pointing out that Bruce had been neglecting to send him those food baskets.

“I’m a fast eater.”

Bruce didn’t respond, settling to close the fridge door and then letting his hand rest on the handle for a moment.

Then, Bruce turned to face Wally, and the expression he wore was something Wally couldn’t even attempt to understand.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Bruce finally said, though it didn’t sound as though he was speaking to Wally.

“I told you to go,” Wally pointed out, not liking the touch of regret in Bruce’s voice. Jeez, did this guy have some kind of complex or _what_?

“You’d mentioned how you’d been feeling, your physical symptoms, and I should have decided then not to let you out of my sight,” Bruce said, sounding _different_ than Wally had ever heard him – serious, and collected, _calculative_ – and Wally felt his stomach twist slightly as the other closed the distance between them.

“I can take care of myself,” Wally replied, his lips suddenly having gone dry. Bruce met his gaze then, before glancing at down at Wally’s lips, just as his tongue swiped over them, wetting them.

“I’ve never doubted that, for a moment,” Bruce said, taking another step towards him, and the sincerity was _present_ – Wally found himself believing the other man. Bruce _did_ respect him – _did_ think he was competent.

He simply _cared_. In his own way.

Too bad it was all too late to mean anything at all.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wally found himself mumbling, wondering when Bruce had gotten so close, and the arms folded over his chest tightened somewhat, almost defensively.

“You called me,” Bruce murmured, his voice softening to match Wally’s own, and Wally wondered if Bruce had any _inkling_ of how much Wally simply wanted to slam him up against the counter and kiss him – aware that he could do it before Bruce would even _blink_.

Though, that would be something he’d have to explain in the long run.

Reigning himself in, Wally tensed even more, and then pressed his lips together in a line.

“I shouldn’t have,” he finally said, and something in Bruce’s expression flickered, then, though Wally couldn’t figure out _what_ it was, and also _when_ the guy had gotten so hard to read.

“But you did,” and Bruce sounded a little pained, almost, struggling in a way. “And I’m here now, but if you want me to leave, Wally…I will.”

Even as the words left Bruce’s lips, Wally was fully aware that was the _last_ thing he wanted.

“And if I wanted you to stay…would you stay?” Wally found himself asking instead, and his voice gave himself away – shaking without his permission.

Bruce blinked, in what appeared to be surprise. Wally shouldn’t have said that. It was too late, it was all too little and all too late and-

“Yes.”

Later, Wally would wonder if the time it had taken for him to uncross his arms and fall into Bruce, stepping forward and grabbing his collar as he finally slammed his lips to Bruce’s own – later, Wally would wonder if he’d given himself away somehow, if he’d done it too quick.

But, at the moment, all he felt was Bruce kissing him back, those soft lips parting against his, those strong arms wrapping around him and holding him together, against _him_ , and all Wally could think was that he couldn’t get closer to Bruce _fast_ enough, quick enough, _in time_.


	12. It's, uh, it's called dating.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has a way with words. Then again, so does Wally.

Wally had fallen asleep at some point, head resting on Bruce’s chest and an arm draped over his legs. Bruce had gotten the speedster to sit back down after reassuring him that he wasn’t going anywhere, and the younger man had finally settled.

Bruce tried not to let his thoughts linger on the slight bruising on his lips, nor on the way the apologies had slipped from Wally’s lips with every exhale. As though the other had _anything_ at all to apologize for.

Bruce’s hand now rested in Wally’s hair, threading through the red strands absently as his eyes remained unfocused at the blank television screen. He had no intention of leaving the other, least of all when he was in this condition. It was important, however, that he file away Wally’s emotional state as a potential symptom that could be related to his physical exhaustion.

His hand dropped from Wally’s hair, only to let the back of his fingers graze lightly over the speedster’s cheek. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come.

Though, what else would have done? There had been no other option. He supposed, in hindsight, that now would be an opportune time to come clean, to confess, to tell Wally he was Batman, that this had been some kind of social experiment – anything, to remedy the twisting at the pit of his stomach that felt strangely akin to betrayal.

But, Wally…was in no state to process, and the last thing Bruce wanted to do was _upset_ the other. Perhaps he could simply wait a bit longer, until he’d figured out exactly what was going on with the speedster.

Right. And, it was far more likely for Wally to convey his emotions and express himself to Bruce Wayne than to any of the Leaguers, Batman himself included. This…was the only viable option.

Surely Wally would understand.

Bruce drew his hand away from Wally’s face, and instead ran it over his own face in frustration. As unsettling as it had been to stay away from Wally the past two weeks, he’d managed to maintain monitoring the speedster from a distance.

And, in some way, he’d felt relieved – relieved that he’d never have to reveal his vigilante identity to the speedster, and that they could remain as they were.

Yet, Wally’s voice – broken, soft, earnest…

And he’d come running. Because, at some point, this had become more than simply leadership, more than simply ascertaining the wellbeing of his fellow coworkers. At some point, this had become more than professional, and Bruce had yet to piece together _what_ exactly it had become.

Wally shifted on his chest, pressing his face into Bruce’s shirt and mumbled something that sounded painfully like another apology. The knot in his stomach twisted sharply.

Bruce’s hand returned to Wally’s head, attempting to soothe as his fingers threaded through Wally’s hair. His hair was somewhat greasy, probably unwashed. Guilt accompanied the observation, and Bruce tried not to think about Wally in some kind of slump, distressed over what had transpired between them.

Of course not. It had to have been something else. But the speedster did look thinner, paler, more ragged than Bruce would ever have liked to see him. There had been energy in the kisses, in Wally’s body pressed flushed against his – but nothing to quell his concerns.

Bruce shifted to rest his chin on top of Wally’s hair, sighing.

“You’re going to be okay, kid,” he said, before closing his eyes. He could afford to rest for a bit.

After all, Wally was safe and in his arms. Gotham would manage for one night. 

* * *

Wally woke up alone, in the comfort of his bed and feeling strangely empty. A little confused, he stretched, trying to recall what he’d forgotten and scanning his room.

And then, as the smell of gravy and garlic bread wafted to his nose, Wally sat straight up, eyes widening. Right. Bruce Wayne. In his apartment.

Kissing.

The blood rushing immediately to his face, Wally clapped his hands to his face, squeezing his eyes shut. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He hadn’t prepared for any of this. What had he been _thinking_?

He lowered his hands, looking around himself again in slight dismay. So Bruce had carried him to bed. And, then what? Proceeded to make dinner?

Sighing, Wally swung his legs around and got to his feet, straightening up. Only to feel a sudden rush, and suddenly the world tilted. Staggering slightly, he managed to catch the edge of the side table, to regain balance and help his way back to the bed.

It had been happening more frequently – the lightheaded sensation upon awakening. As though his body was slowing down, in some way, unable to catch up the way it did before. Though, that was absurd – he still had his speed after all.

Pressing his palms to his eyes, Wally leaned forward and willed the head rush to fade. He wasn’t sure how long he remained in that position, and it wasn't until he felt the bed sink next to him, informing him of the other man’s presence that he realized how it might have looked.

Still a little hazy, Wally raised his head from his hands and blinked, turning his gaze to meet the blue ones of Bruce Wayne. The light had been turned on, at some point as well. At any other point, Wally would have been concerned about his lack of reflex, lack of processing someone else entering the room, turning on the light.

For now, he could only focus on the blood rushing through his skull, making it strangely difficult to focus on those blue eyes now peering at him with concern.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

It took Wally longer than it should have to process the words.

“I’ve just been, uh, a little tired,” Wally said, after a brief pause, forcing a smile and sitting up a little straighter. “Is that garlic bread I smell?” He added, looking past Bruce and hoping the billionaire would take the subject change.

“A little tired sounds like an understatement,” Bruce said, and Wally felt two fingers pressed to his jaw that gently tilted his head back – facing those blue eyes once more. “You don’t appear well.”

Wally let the forced smile slip slightly, flitting his gaze between Bruce’s own.

“I’ll be alright, man,” Wally responded, his own hand reflexively reaching up to curl gently over Bruce’s hand, pulling it away from his face. “I’ve been through worse,” Wally added, almost jokingly.

The crease in Bruce’s forehead reminded Wally that the strange version of the playboy billionaire he was now witness to was not the fun and games type. He was all serious, concerned, and reminded Wally of….someone he couldn’t quite place.

“Do you have access to resources?” Bruce asked, leaning back a bit and tilting his head. Bruce’s hand turned, so that their palms were pressed together, and Wally blinked at the strange phrasing.

“Uh…?”

“Medical resources. If not, I have the best staff on hand, were you ever to require…”

“No, no,” Wally quickly cut in, as Bruce trailed off, trying to push down the panic at being seen by a physician. How would he be able to explain _that_? Oh man, he’d become some kind of lab rat. And then – what would Bruce _think_? Wally had been lying to him, or well, hiding the whole Flash thing from him!

That would be hard to explain. Scratch that – _impossible_ to explain.

“Wally?”

“No, I’m good, man. I’m telling you, I got this,” Wally reassured him, reaching instead now, for Bruce’s other hand, so that he could clasp both hands in his together. Almost as though to prevent the billionaire from picking up his phone and making a phone call right then and there.

“Will you tell me if you don’t?” Bruce asked, his tone careful, and Wally was confused.

“Huh?”

“Will you tell me if you don’t…got this,” Bruce said, a little awkwardly, but with the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

Wally burst out laughing, squeezing both hands and leaning forward to let his forehead fall on the other man’s shoulder.

“Yeah, man. Yeah. I’ll tell you.”

* * *

It appeared that Bruce hadn’t actually cooked, but instead, ordered in. Not that Wally was complaining, as he chewed into the chicken drumstick he’d torn off the rotisserie chicken, now soaked in gravy. Wally would never get over how _good_ rich people food tasted. Even when it was takeout.

He never knew chicken didn’t have to be so _dry_. Even the gravy tasted like it had been made with some kind of rich people spices.

Bruce was eating a piece of chicken with a fork and a knife, neatly cutting into the meat and dipping it into the small bowl of gravy, and Wally couldn’t help but grin at how completely different they were. Bruce probably ate pizza with a fork too.

Wally burst out a laugh at that, only to have some food spit out, and he hurriedly covered his mouth, chewing quickly. Ears reddening, he wiped his mouth and looked back at Bruce, who looked a little puzzled despite the slight smile on his lips, watching Wally with affection.

Wally ignored the butterflies in his stomach, and took a giant gulp of water instead.

“This is really good,” Wally finally said, once his mouth was clear.

“I’m glad,” Bruce responded, lowering his fork and resting his chin in his palm, elbow on the table. Wally flushed a little at the attention, and the open fondness in the other man’s expression, and turned, looking instead towards the clock. Huh, it was a lot later than he’d thought it was.

“Shouldn’t you get back home?” Wally asked, looking back at Bruce with a frown.

“You asked me to stay,” Bruce reminded him, an eyebrow raising, and Wally flushed again, shifting uncomfortably.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean-“ Wally cut himself off, and cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean the night. I mean, like, in general.”

The eyebrow went up higher, and Wally felt his cheeks burn.

“Like, conceptually. Stick around. But not like, here. I mean, unless you want to. Because you totally can.”

The eyebrow remained up, and Wally willed himself to stop talking, well aware that his entire face was likely blushing scarlet at this point.  

“I have nowhere to be in the morning,” Bruce finally said, his words soft and the amusement clear in his expression. “But I won’t overstay my welcome, if you’d like for me to leave,” he added, in that same gentle tone.

God. Wally could kick him out and he’d still be a gentleman about it.

“No, uh, it’s…it’s fine if you stay. I, uh, I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take the couch,” Bruce stated, almost business like, and Wally opened his mouth to protest, only to falter at the look he received.

Alright then.

Wally looked at the chicken bone on his plate and then picked up a potato wedge, nibbling on it before looking back up at Bruce.

“…uh, what does this….I mean, what does this…” Wally started, struggling to find the words. Was it too soon to ask? Was it all still casual, and Wally was simply getting ahead of himself?

That thought left Wally feeling a little unsettled and he stuffed the rest of the potato wedge into his mouth, so that he wouldn’t say anything else.

Bruce cocked his head, though, eyebrows raised again.

“I would tell you to spit it out, but I’d much rather prefer you didn’t take that literally,” Bruce said, mildly, and Wally found himself smiling a little, before he chewed and swallowed.

“Never mind, it’s nothing,” Wally said, reaching for another wedge, only to have a hand land on his.

“Wally.”

His name on Bruce’s lips never failed to fill Wally with a rush of something almost overwhelming.

“I just…I don’t know what we’re doing. I…didn’t really know what we were doing before, and then you…” Wally refrained from saying _moved on_ , considering there hadn’t been anything to move on from.

“What is it that you want from me?” Bruce asked after a beat, and Wally stared determinedly at where their hands met, before looking up at the words.

Everything.

Though, that hardly worked as a response.

“…I want to know what it is you want from me.”

Close enough to the truth.

Only then, did Wally see the slightest flicker of uncertainty in those ever confident blue eyes, and it caused a slight hiccup in Wally’s veins. What did _that_ mean? Wally hurriedly pushed on, not wanting to let the silence linger.

“Because, I, uh, I really like spending time with you, and the past two weeks were really hard, but if you’re like, one of those casual….kisser dudes, I mean, I can get used to it, I guess, and I’ll just…I need to know if that’s all this is, because then I’ll know what to expect, you know? Like, I’m not complaining or anything, and it makes sense that you have like thirty girlfriends, and I’m not mad or anything, but like, I just, I don’t want you to treat me like I’m…not just another...y’know? When, I mean, when I am?” Wally was rambling and he found, now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “Like, I can get used to it, or whatever, but don’t treat me like I’m some kind of idiot or whatever, because I mean, I get it-“

“Wally,” Bruce cut in, and the hand on his squeezed lightly, causing Wally to fall silent.

“Uh,” Wally answered, well aware that his face was bright red.

“I do not want to upset your life. Paparazzi, media…I can do what I can to maintain a semblance of normalcy for you, and protect you best I can, but the fact of the matter is…it is not easy dating me.”

Huh. A let down, then. Okay. It was clear. Wally could deal with that. He’d been through worse.

“That said,” Bruce continued, as Wally looked down at the plate. “I am not very good at this in general. But…when I am with you, I have no such desire to be with anyone else.”

The words processed slowly, and Wally blinked, attempting to understand the implications of them.

…What?

Wally snapped his eyes back up, eyes widening slightly as he realized exactly what Bruce was saying.

“If it’s what you want, what you really want…then it’s yours.” Bruce swallowed, and then licked his lips, and Wally felt a little like he’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. Or the Speedforce. Or something. “If you really want this…then I’m yours.”

Woah. W _oah_. What’s he even supposed to say to that? It was like a line out of a movie. Woah.

“Uh,” Wally managed. Eloquent. Right.

Bruce smiled slightly, and let go of Wally’s hand.

“I’d much rather prefer if you considered it, and took your time doing so,” Bruce said, still holding Wally’s gaze.

“There’s nothing to think about,” Wally found himself saying, feeling a bit as though his lips were numb. “I mean, you can’t be mine because people can’t really be property, and I don’t really wanna own you anyway, but like, the whole sentiment of the thing, I, uh, yeah. I mean, yeah. If you want. I mean, I really want this. I guess. I don’t really know, I mean, I can handle paparazzi and stuff, and I mean, I don’t really know what I can offer you-“

“Your wellbeing. Offer me that and nothing else.” Bruce said, eyes meeting Wally’s in a way that left him feeling particularly exposed.

“Uh,” Wally responded, thrown.

“I only care that you are safe, well, and happy. If at any given moment our arrangement comes into conflict with those terms, we shall terminate it,” Bruce said, returning his attention to his piece of chicken and raising his fork again.

Wally blinked in confusion, and then, a look of utter disbelief crossed his expression.

“Dude. Dating. It’s called dating. We’re…we’re dating. Don’t- don’t say arrangement, sounds like you’re my sugar daddy or something,” Wally added, wrinkling his nose a little and well aware that his ears were burning. “Just,  uh, dating. We’re dating.”

A pause, and then a slight chuckle. The sound of the fork resting once more against the plate and then, Wally looked up from where he’d fixed his gaze on Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce had raised a glass of wine, tilting it slightly, the smile on his face warm now, somehow.

“A toast. To dating, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. Anyway, I plan on having a couple chapters of happy dating stuff, before things break down. I hope you like it - and let me know your thoughts! Also there's a beautiful fanart by paracosmosey from the last chapter and I just - thank you all for your comments to and love.


	13. Must Be Some Kind of Bug Going Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, come to think of it, a man who dresses up as a bat and stalks his own city at night is bound to have poor social skills. Yeah. That explains it. Why else would Batman kiss him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to stop spreading out chapters across months - they're getting really choppy on my end. I hope you enjoy, this chapter serves as a small plot point but mostly, as a fun filler.

“He’s nice,” Wally said to Batman on a whim, two weeks later during monitor duty. The other didn’t respond, and Wally felt a strange sense of foreboding.

“Bruce Wayne,” Wally clarified, pushing on out of both dire curiosity and the need to have conversation with the other man – who quite evidently, was avoiding him. Which is saying something, considering the compact space and multiple missions together that required teamwork.

“Hn.” Batman made a noncommittal noise, before ruffling some pages on the desk.

“You told me not to trust him,” Wally pointed out, moving over to where the other man was now typing.

“Hn,” came the grunt, and Wally bristled, annoyed.

“I want to know why, Bats.” Wally finally stated, arms folding over his chest as he leaned against the desk.

The cowled man didn’t respond, before finally letting out a sigh – irritation evident in his tone and expression. Wally felt himself diffuse.

“…Sorry. I just…” for some reason, Wally couldn’t stop talking. “I really like him. And…I can’t stop thinking about what you said.” Wally ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s not like you listened,” Bats finally said, in a gruff voice, void of emotion otherwise – even void of irritation.

 _He’s not wrong_ , a voice that mimicked the tone of the other man in front of him, mentioned in Wally’s head. Wally ignored it.

“You didn’t explain why. What, am I just supposed to do whatever you say, whenever you say it?” Wally let a touch of indignation slip into his tone as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly, he was antsy.

“Yes,” Batman responded, without letting a beat pass.

Wally blinked, not quite having a response to that. Well. That’s unreasonable.

“That’s unreasonable.” Wally found himself stating, even before he registered the words leaving his lips.

“I’m Batman.”

It took longer than Wally would like to admit for the speedster to realize that had been a joke.

“Uh…”

“How are you feeling, Flash?”

Woah. Out of left field? Yeah. Wally blinked, trying to reorient himself to the sudden change in subject.

“Uh. Fine.” Wally said, dismissively, rubbing his neck as he tried to figure out how to steer the conversation back on track. “Bruce has been taking care of me, I guess.” Wally said, before internally cringing. “Like, uh, he’s been really good.”

“What is being done that is helpful?” Bats asked, in a tone that was nothing if not diplomatic. Strange. Bats _really_ didn’t like Bruce. Or….whatever Bruce had done that was bad, was _really_ bad.

“He’s a really nice guy, you know.” Wally tried again, unsettled. “He brings by tons of food and checks in on me a lot,” he added, in earnest, before pausing. “Wait…Bats, is it because he’s rich?”

Of course. That made sense. In a corrupt, poverty stricken city, a billionaire like Bruce Wayne was an example of the gap between the rich and the poor, an example of peak capitalism, a prime example of inequality.

Damn.

“You know, he does tons and tons of charity work, and stuff, right?” Wally kept going, moving to grab a chair and rolling it towards Bats before sitting on it backwards. He gestured, as he kept speaking, “He sets up all these social services and employment opportunities for youth, hell – he’s like the day version of you!” Wally pointed out, in a tone that was laced with realization.

Except, It was likely that Bruce was a lot nicer. And probably more attractive.

“Hn.” Great, they were back to the grunts.

“…I really like him, Bats.” Wally tried again, his words softer now. If Bruce was someone to watch out for, for actual reasons, he wanted to know. He needed to know. He _deserved_ to know.

“Don’t trust him.” Bats got to his feet with those words, shutting off the monitor and sweeping some pages into a folder.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to trust you?” Wally shot back, sounding petulant now.

This pause was longer than Wally had expected it to be, heavily anticipating a, ‘ _I’m Batman.’_

“No.” Instead, came the response, and Wally didn’t even blink as the other man stalked past him.

…What?

Wally zipped to action, getting to his feet and following after Bats with a frown on his face.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m the last person you should trust,” the other said, not even bothering to look at Wally.

“Okay, c’mon, you can’t just say that and walk away,” Wally said, stepping into the elevator behind the other man. This was ridiculous.

“Hn.” The other man offered, pressing the button to take them down towards the teleportation pads.

“Dude, I trust you,” Wally tried, now a little more ruffled than he’d initially been. What the _hell_ was Bats playing at? He stepped forward into the other man’s line of sight. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t.”

What happened next, Wally couldn’t predict – and he was a speedster.

Bats stepped forward, almost glowering, the cowl covering too much of his expression for it to be readable, and the speedster wondered, for a split second, if the other man was going to punch him. An air of intimidation and irritation rippled off the other’s frame, and Wally wished the elevator door hadn’t just closed behind him.

The distance between them closed.

“Uh, wait,” Wally started, more confused than anything else – so fixated on the strange white glow behind the cowl where Bats eyes should be. He could barely pay any attention to –

Rough stubble scraping against his chin, before surprisingly soft lips pressing firmly, against his own.

Wally wondered if this was what it felt like to short circuit.

Later, he would think of all the things he should have done, like shoving Bats away and spitting, like shouting and punching the other man in the face, like tearing a fabric through time and reality itself so that it never happened to begin with -

But at the moment, Wally simply forgot how to move. How to _breathe_.

Batman was _kissing_ him. The Batman. The Dark Knight. Though, it wasn’t much of a kiss. It was distant, it was hard, it was cold, and it was nothing like the way a kiss should be.

Something riled up in Wally’s throat, something akin to a shout, but then the other man broke away from him, and Wally was once more, attuned to reality. The elevator door opened and Batman walked past him like nothing had happened.

“Wait-What the hell?” Wally spluttered, almost tripping over his suddenly confused and heavy feet, following after the other. “What was-“

“Why you shouldn’t trust me,” Batman stated, the words rough and cold, and Wally felt as though he’d been slapped.

“Bats, I-“

“Go home, Flash. Get some rest.”

Wally didn’t even muster a response, before the other man disappeared on the teleportation pad.

And Wally did exactly as he was told, his heart clenching and twisting painfully in his chest.

* * *

“You’re quiet,” Bruce informed him, later that night, as Wally sprawled out on his couch. Bruce rummaged around in his kitchen attempting to scramble up something for dinner. The billionaire wasn’t exactly a great cook by any means, but Wally had a feeling the other could sense when Wally was too tired to leave his house. And, apparently, Bruce had some kind of sense about when _not_ to leave the speedster alone.

 Wally flinched at the words, not quite knowing how to respond. All he’d been thinking about was Bats, distracted and disturbed and discomfited all at once.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Got some stuff on my mind.” Not to mention, the headache that had been weighing him down had come back tenfold. As though, somehow, simply thinking had managed to drain his energy more than everything else. Was that even possible? Was mental exertion a thing, when it came to his speed?

There had been approximately 478 ways of responding to Bats earlier, in the elevator. And Wally hadn’t chosen a single one of them. He’d simply stood there.

“-help you with?” Wally tuned in to catch the last few words his boyfriend asked him, and Wally shifted, uncomfortably.  

“There’s, uh, a coworker…at work,” Wally started, slowly, fixing his gaze on the television while feeling Bruce’s gaze on the back of his head.

“Hm? And?” The rummaging stopped, and Wally slumped, a little, sinking further into the couch.

“I can’t, uh…get a read on him.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce sounded testy, careful, and Wally wondered if the billionaire would storm into the station later tomorrow, demanding to have some nonexistent coworker fired.

“I, uh, just don’t think he likes me very much. And I don’t know what…I did.” Wally paused, and twisted his fingers in the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it up and then twisting at the cloth. “Or, uh, what I should do.”

“Does he make you uncomfortable?”

Wally hesitated, before letting go of the hem of his shirt and flattening it down, trying to rid the fabric of the wrinkles.

“Uh. Sorta.”

There was a long pause, and Wally shifted again, not trusting himself to turn around and look at the other man.

“Has he hurt you?” Bruce suddenly asked, his tone a little distant, yet at the same time a little too earnest.

Wally wanted to say no, but he had the strangest feeling that he what he was feeling now – it was definitely some kind of _hurt_.

“I…don’t think he meant to,” Wally finally said, running his hand through his hair uneasily.

“That isn’t what I asked,” Bruce said, tersely, and Wally cringed internally. “Intent does not dismiss the consequence of one’s actions,” and Bruce’s words were cold now, almost _angry_. Wally knew it wasn’t at him, but it sure as _hell_ felt like it.

“No, no, he didn’t…he didn’t hurt me.” Wally ran a hand over his face before looking up at the ceiling instead. He couldn’t even tell, for sure, if he was lying.

“Wally…” Bruce started, his voice softening somewhat, and Wally heard footsteps start his way.

“I, uh, I really like you. You know that?” Wally found himself saying, the words almost like vomit – leaving his lips without his permission. He closed his eyes and the footsteps stopped.

At the lack of response, Wally opened his eyes, twisted around on the couch to look at his boyfriend, and blinked to see that the other had turned around, returning to the counter and starting to separate some vegetables on the board.

“I’m aware,” Bruce said, sounding different, and Wally wondered if he’d upset the other somehow.

“…Are you mad at me?” Wally asked, all at once even more uneasy, and hating the way the words sounded – a little scared and far too vulnerable.

“No, Wally.” Bruce said, rinsing some carrots in the sink, and Wally frowned, watching the other over the top of the couch.

“…I just…”

“I have a business trip coming up. I'll have to be away for a couple weeks.” Bruce suddenly said, looking up and meeting Wally’s gaze. Wally blinked, and then frowned.

“Oh, uh, okay. Sure.”

Bruce lowered his gaze, and Wally felt a lump in his throat that was suddenly difficult to swallow.

“I’m leaving next month, so we still have some time,” Bruce added, a moment later, in a much gentler tone.

“…Okay.”

“We can Faceskype everyday, if you desire.”

Wally blinked, before his lips pressed together amusement. Laughter bubbled up Wally’s throat at the fumble in words, and Wally burst out laughing. He turned, amidst a slight hiccup and giggle, to see the look of confusion cross the other man’s face.

“Facetime. You mean facetime.”

“Facebook, Facetime. Same thing,” Bruce responded, dismissively, waving his hand before picking up a knife to slice the carrots.

A couple moments passed, and they settled into a much easier atmosphere. Wally found himself wondering if there would ever be a good time to tell the other man that he was the Flash.

“What do you think about superheros?” Wally asked, suddenly, blinking a bit at the ceiling he’d returned his attention to.

There was a pause so slight that Wally almost didn’t catch it.  

“What, like, Superman and Batman?” Bruce asked, after a beat, having paused in his administrations, before resuming chopping the carrots.

Wally tried not to acknowledge the mild resentment that at the mention of superheroes, it’s Batman and Superman that come to the forefront, rather than…Well, The Flash.

He wrinkled his nose, changed the channel and then shrugged.

“Yeah, like them.”

“Well, one of them is an alien who seems too good to trust,” there’s a pause here, and then, a slight chuckle, “and the other dresses in all black, stalks my city, and has a severe savior complex.”

Wally opens his mouth and then shuts it, blinking. Well, he’s not wrong.

“But, uh, he keeps your city safe,” Wally responded, twisting around on the couch to take a look at Bruce who doesn’t even seem interested in the conversation.

“There’s plenty of people who keep my city safe. Only one of them dresses in black, dresses up as a bat, and terrorizes criminals and sometimes civilians at night.” Bruce shrugged, and Wally tried to figure out why he suddenly felt annoyed.

“Okay, well, he does a better job than everyone else though, doesn’t he? And, he’s apart of the Justice League!”

“Yeah, this station above earth filled with narcissistic beings who think they have the right to decide the fate of those literally beneath them.” Bruce looked up at Wally, pausing in chopping…what was that, now? Asparagus? Wally hated asparagus.

“Okay, but they’re not all that bad. They’re just doing what’s right! What’s…good for us!” Wally frowned at the asparagus, not trusting himself to look up at Bruce’s warm blue gaze. “And Batman’s just trying his hardest to make the best out of…” 

“A city like Gotham?” Bruce offered, lightly, almost sounding offended himself.

“That’s not what I meant,” Wally said before biting his lip and finally looking up at Bruce, who’s looking at him intently.

“You trust him, then? Batman? In all his…miserable, terrorizing, vigilante glory?” Bruce asked, carefully.

Wally gaped, wanting to protest but not really knowing how.

“Yeah, I do. I’d trust him with my life.” And despite it all, despite what had happened earlier that day, Wally _had_ done exactly that. “He has a funny way of showing how he cares, but he does. He’s more human than…the rest of them.” The rest of them all. “And not just literally.”

And suddenly, Wally’s overcome with both affection and realization. Bats was weird, isolated, and had really poor social cues. Wally was _definitely_ reading way too into what had happened earlier.

“I wouldn’t trust him,” Bruce said, suddenly, almost looking upset himself, and Wally felt a remarkable sense of deja vu.

Simultaneously, Wally wanted to leave.

Because despite what happened earlier, despite everything Bats had done, no matter what Bats said – Wally did trust the other vigilante.

“I trust him. I don’t think he knows it himself, how much he…really cares, and needs…but, but…he’s smart, and strategic, and sometimes he’s funny, and he’s got a weird but good set of morals, and he’s surrounded by metahumans saving lives and, he seems like he doesn’t know how to….be with anyone, even when he needs to be, and that’s probably because…he just has shitty social skills,” and Wally’s rambling, not quite sure what he’s saying but seemingly unable to stop, “But he really does try his best, to be there, to do something, anything, and it’s…”

He cut himself off, realizing his eyes were burning and this was ridiculous. His boyfriend didn’t have to like Batman. This was ridiculous. Hell, _he_ didn’t even have to like Batman.

There’s silence, and Wally goes back to determinedly staring at the asparagus.

“So,” and Bruce cleared his throat here, probably trying to cut through the awkward tension now between them. “I take it he’s your favorite?”

Wally half shrugged, feeling as though his face was burning along with his eyes now and he quickly twisted back around on the couch, staring at the screen.

A couple more moments passed and Bruce resumed chopping vegetables.

Wally changed the channel a third time when Bruce finally spoke again. 

“You know who I do trust out of the lot? The fast kid.” Bruce hummed and Wally froze. “He seems nice. Like someone I’d want to get to know. The Flash, right?”

Wally couldn’t help but grin at the screen, changing the channel again.

“Nah, he seems kind of boring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening. I'm easing them best I can in the direction I intend for this fic to go. I only intended on 15 chapters, but I might end up having about 20...


End file.
